Breaking Stigmas
by the punchline
Summary: That stupid Slytherin with his stupidly smug smirk could take that stupid book and just shove it up his stupid Slytherin - 'Hermione, you're muttering again.' - Muchos thanks to mae513 for the title! Seperate epilogue, - Previous pen name: krazie-livin
1. Stupidly Nice

**1 – Stupidly Nice**

'That will be all. You are dismissed.'

Hermione beamed to herself excitedly, knowing exactly which book she'd be needing for the 1000 word essay Slughorn had just assigned them.

'I'll see you guys at lunch, ok?' she told Harry and Ron hastily, too impatient to wait for their answers before she hurried out of the row they were seated in. Roughly squirming past Slytherins and Gryffindors alike (ignoring the Slytherin's disgusted cussing and the Gryffindor's indignant "Hey!"'s), Hermione just about threw herself out the classroom door ahead of the other students and began sprinting as best as she could with her hands full of textbooks and her robes flying along behind her to the library. She was going to have to hurry if she wanted the book, because no doubt other students would want – no, _need_ – itfor their essays too. _But_, if _Hermione_ acquired it first, she'd be doing everyone a favour. If _she_ got it first, she'd get the essay done tonight and the book would be back on the shelves tomorrow for everyone else to share… without her breathing hot air down their necks and tapping her foot impatiently, waiting for them to finish with it.

Hermione barged through the large open oak doors of the sacred library exhausted. Panting and clutching at her side, she staggered between the study desks, dumping her books on a random one and then power-walking towards the bookshelves (If only running wasn't forbidden in the library!), all the while trying hard to remember which shelf she'd last seen the potions textbook on.

'C'mon, c'mon, c'mon….' she coaxed herself desperately as she hurried through the shelves; shaking her hands at her sides with nervous anticipation. If someone else got that book before she did… _argh!_ It wasn't even thinkable. She'd have to put off doing the essay for another night, maybe even another _week_ knowing the other, reckless students in her Potions class. Hermione turned into her fourth aisle, bumping against another student as he past her but not bothering to apologise in her haste to find her book. Perhaps she'd apologise for ramming past him if she saw the boy later.

Hermione's eyes widened, her hands froze mid-shake at her thighs and her furiously working legs jolted to a halt.

Feeling her heart plummet, Hermione bit her lip and slowly turned to see if what she'd glimpsed was true, and not some twisted mirage. She felt sick as her eyes slowly took in the tall, almost lanky form of – what was his name? Oh, yeah – _Blaise Zabini _calmly loping down the aisle towards Madame Pince's desk with none other than _her _book held loosely in his dangling hand.

_Imbloodypossible._

Not able to control herself, Hermione let loose a number of very dirty swearwords she could only have picked up from the Weasley Twins under her breath. Her shoulders sagged and the breath she'd been holding dreadfully came out in one long, depressed whoosh.

'No, no, no, no, no, no, _no…' _she dry-sobbed softly, her feet – jittery with the disappointing loss - jiggling her body up and down a few times. Not at all like a tantrum throwing child.

A few yards in front of her, Zabini paused in his tracks amidst the study tables. His shoulders squared tensely and his head swivelled slightly in the direction of Hermione's now frozen body. _Like an animal with the scent of prey_, she noted fearfully.

Could he have heard her? Could he sense the animalistic thoughts that had crossed her mind when she saw him with _her _book? Was he affronted by her far from pleasant visions? Did he, being a Pureblood Slytherin, want to teach her a violent lesson for thinking such degrading things about someone with a higher social status?! Was she going to regret watching that mass murder movie with Ron?!

_Pfft, _Hermione thought to herself with false reassurance. _O-of course not._

For one dreadful second all she could see was his ear, his smooth, olive-skinned cheek and the shape of his aristocratic nose. But then her eyes widened and she felt the blood rush to her cheeks as Zabini's whole lean body turned to face her, quivering (hopefully not visibly) next to a bookshelf. The ghost of a smirk played across his thin pale lips.

'Is there a problem, Granger?' he asked innocently, his silky voice somewhat daunting. Hermione gulped, licking her suddenly dry lips as she warily watched him backtrack towards her with an eyebrow lifted inquisitively.

'N-no,' she stammered embarrassingly, forcing a careless smile onto her lips as she shrugged her shoulders casually. 'No problem at all.'

Zabini nodded his head slowly, the smirk on his face growing more and more precise. Yet whether he believed her or not, he was quite clearly turning to leave when Hermione, confused anger unexpectedly pooling into her stomach, blurted out, 'But you're not even _in_ my Potions class!'

Because he wasn't. And though she couldn't imagine what job he'd be wanting that didn't require a N.E.W.T in Potions, she'd never seen him before, so _surely_ he wasn't in her class. And if he wasn't in her class, why would he be needing the book? Why shouldn't he agree to just lend it to her for _just one night?_ Besides, even if he _was _in her class, how the bloody _hell _did he get to the library before she did? It was just unfeasible.

The smirk remained on Zabini's face, but the rest of his face seemed bored and condescending. A dark eyebrow arched higher over an even darker eye with a contradicting air, and Hermione instantly regretted saying anything at all.

'Aren't I?' Zabini objected in what _may_ have been described as a _purr_. Hermione swore she heard mockery in his otherwise expressionless tone.

Alright, maybe it was time to reconsider. Was it possible that Zabini _was _in her class? Or was he just messing with her? He'd be a typical Slytherin if he was, and Hermione wasn't one to underestimate people.

'I don't know,' she confessed carefully, feeling ridiculous. '_Are_ you?'

Zabini made a noise, a cross between a satisfied harrumph and an amused snort. Hermione scowled in return. He held the potions textbook before her, and Hermione couldn't help but notice how much of the book his fingers seemed to be able to cover. Her hands barely covered the spine of such a book, yet Zabini's seemed to be mere centimetres from the edge.

'Was it the book?'

His voice jolted her out of her thoughts about his rather large hand (and what they say about large hands) compared to her own hands, which were tucked between her arms, folded over her chest obstinately. His bored tone still held that slight sardonic edge.

'Sorry?' she asked as her mind struggled to recall the words he'd spoken. But that challenge was soon replaced with the new one of keeping her face coolly composed as the stupid Slytherin smirked again. Zabini shook the book that he now held level with his head for unnecessary emphasis as he asked once more, 'Did you want the _book, _Granger? For the _Potions essay?_'

_Now _he was sounding _far_ too innocent – as if he found her incomprehension entertaining.

Determined to 'keep her cool', and not wanting to accept the book (which she decided was way more trouble than it was worth) from the stupid Slytherin anymore, Hermione forced a bitter smile upon her lips and shook her head.

'No thanks,' she declined, her sweet voice cutting, flowing smoothly out of her twisted lips. 'You can have it.'

Hermione was _beyond _irked to see that the Slytherin's expression didn't change one bit and that his face was still wiped clean of all emotion, but for one eyebrow that now rose tauntingly. Her eyes narrowed and she shifted her weight onto the other foot, her face set in a stubborn mask of stone. She felt like she was in a Western Showdown.

The Battle of the Facial Expressions. Exciting.

Under no circumstances would she accept the book when he'd been so shamelessly mocking her. That would just be plain desperate. After all, it wasn't as if there weren't _other _informative books on the subject in the library.

Just none as good as _that _one.

'Oh no,' Zabini objected, his voice dripping with patronizing sarcasm, 'I insist. You can have the book Granger.' He offered it to her, but Hermione's arms stayed locked beneath her chest as she eyed the red covered book with a new suspicion. Maybe he'd hexed in when she wasn't looking and _that's _why he was being so almost-nice… Zabini rolled his eyes and shook the book a little, as if trying to tempt her.

'No.' She persisted stubbornly, taking a deliberate step away from the textbook he was waving in her face. 'I don't need it, Zabini.'

His eyes seemed to be laughing at Hermione.

'Ah,' he said smugly, 'but to me, it sounded like you _wanted _it pretty badly.'

Hermione glowered at him, her lip curling in a childish sneer when in actual fact she was embarrassed that he'd heard her string of foul language.

'Take the book,' Zabini said, sounding impatient now as he ignored Hermione's hateful expression. 'I'll just come and get it tomorrow.'

'How do you know I'll be done tomorrow?' Hermione challenged instantly, staring up at his tall form from behind large, guarded eyes.

Zabini stared right back, his black eyes candidly daring.

'Won't you?' he asked rhetorically.

Blast. He was right. Of course she'd be done tomorrow! Hermione glared at him but reluctantly took the book from his hands. It was impossible that he'd hexed it when she wasn't looking – because she'd been looking the entire time, she'd concluded. She refused to look up at his face because somehow, she knew he'd be smirking.

'Thanks,' she muttered grudgingly as she tucked the book under her arm, finally looking up to see him nod once in return before turning around and walking with a strange, cat-like grace she'd never noticed before, his hands hidden inside the pockets of his school trousers.

It didn't bother Hermione that he didn't say 'you're welcome' or even 'good-bye' before he left; in fact she didn't expect anything more. Because, you see, there was a reason she had never noticed Zabini in her Potions class before.

Blaise Zabini barely spoke at all. Barely showed emotion, even. As she watched him quietly slip out of the library, hardly noticed by anyone aside from herself, she remembered how Zabini was often described as a dark, even ominous character. And it was true. Almost every time she'd ever noticed the intimidating Slytherin, he was either greasing her (or someone else) off for looking his way, or just sitting and observing other people, a bored, dark expression on his face. Either that or he was studying. You'd think _someone _would have spotted him smiling once or twice, but _no. _Hermione was almost positive she'd witnessed the closest thing to his smile today when he'd smirked.

Just watching the way he walked; with his head bowed, his dark, glossy hair falling over his equally dark eyes, his olive-skinned hands tucked into his pockets and his feet barely leaving the ground in some weird saunter that would have resulted in a disturbing Filch-like shuffle if performed by anyone else; it didn't really give off a very welcoming vibe.

Well, whatever. It was his problem, whether he wanted to socialise or not. But then again, in Hermione's opinion, social lives were overrated. Why would anyone rather spend a night on a blindingly lit dance floor rubbing against some sweaty person when you could easily be studying, sweat-free, to get Outstanding grades that would guarantee you open doors in every career path you could possible choose?!

She shook her head, bemused by the antics of her fellow seventh years. But then she remembered the book now tucked under her arm and her face broke into an incontrollable beam. So with her absolutely _brilliant _book in hand and a proud smile plastered on her full lips, Hermione scarcely refrained from skipping to Madame Pince's desk. She looked forward to a very productive night in front of the fire, with all thoughts of the daunting Slytherin gone from her mind.

…For now.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

'So there they were, covered in egg yolk from brainless head to toe and a _muggle beater_ of all things in hand, and naturally, Mum just _blows _it.'

Hermione giggled as Ginny animatedly told her story, her expression exaggerated and her hands flying in the air energetically as the pair walked with Harry and Ron to class.

'What did she say?' asked Hermione eagerly, sure that it wouldn't have been pretty, knowing Mrs Weasley.

'What _didn't _she say?' retorted Ginny loudly, her hair flicking against her shoulders as her head bobbed up and down passionately with her words. Hermione grinned. 'I'll leave out the worse of it, but eventually, she goes; _'What in Merlin's name do you have in your hand?"_ Hermione snorted as Ginny put on a high pitched, crabby voice she assumed was meant to be Mrs Weasley. 'And the twins, stupid ugly brutes that they are, go; 'it's an egg beater, Mum – Dad says it beats eggs!' and then Mum's forehead looks like it's _breeding _wrinkles she's so confused, and goes 'Beats them at _what?!" _Hermione let out a bark of laughter at this point, unable to contain it any longer. 'Wait, wait,' Ginny hushed her happily, breathless by the fast non-stop pace at which she was speaking. 'And then Fred and Georgehold up their hands – egg yolk and all – and say 'That's what _we're _trying to figure out!"

Hermione threw back her head and laughed along with Harry and Ron, as the second youngest Weasley no doubt recalled his memories of the incident also.

'How old did you say they were again?' Harry asked and Ginny grinned.

'Only about thirteen or fourteen,' she replied, flipping her hair over a shoulder. The listening trio chuckled, shaking their heads at the Weasley Twin's foolishness.

'Alright,' said Ginny reluctantly as they neared a turn-off in the hallway. 'I'm off. See ya.' She pecked Harry's cheek, hugged Hermione briefly and waved to Ron before hurrying off down the next corridor, her bag on one shoulder and her brilliant red hair flying behind her. The trio then made their way down the winding staircase that led to the dungeons, trooping through the heavy wooden door and then filing into a row of seats towards the back of the classroom. The large, echoing room already had a few people in it, some sitting in small groups like the three Gryffindors, and others by themselves. As more people began to enter, Hermione pulled her textbooks and parchment from her bag and neatly laid them out on her table. She heard Ron scoff at what he probably considered goody-goody-two-shoes behaviour, but ignored him completely, looking down at her bag once more. She spotted the dark outline of the incredibly informative book that had let her finish her essay so quickly the night before and pulled it out. Maybe she could it lend it to Zabini now, since she knew he'd be borrowing it tonight anyway, and save both herself and Zabini the trip to the library after class. After all, it had been very UnSlytherinish of the boy to give her the book in the first place. Maybe she should return the favour. But she'd have to catch him after class, because Zabini hadn't arrived yet. Hermione placed the book on her desk. Beside her, Ron made another unamused noise.

'_More _books?' he hissed, taken aback. 'Merlin, Hermione – could you _be _any more of a _nerd?' _

Hermione rolled her eyes.

'You say that like it's a bad thing,' she muttered, mostly to herself.

'It _is!' _exclaimed Ron and Harry sighed as he realised this would be another tough afternoon to get through.

'Oh yeah?' Hermione shot back, her face flushing in annoyance. 'Well we'll see who's got it worse when Molly sees how many N.E.W.T.S you _just _missed out on this year, won't we?'

Ron glared at her, slumping lower in his chair and crossing his arms over his deflated chest.

'She doesn't know what she's talking about,' he grumbled darkly to Harry, who winked at Hermione as the redhead stared darkly at his cauldron. 'I'm actually fairly confident I'll be getting a few E's at least…'

Just then, a large, rowdy group of Slytherins jostled themselves into the classroom, their reckless noise drowning out every other conversation in the room. Naturally, Draco Malfoy headed the group, though he wasn't talking or playing around with anyone, just marching superiorly ahead of the others with Pansy Parkinson clinging pathetically to his arm. The couple were flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione watched, full of bitter hatred, as Malfoy led his posse to one of the middle rows on the other side of the classroom (The _Slytherin Side)_. He sat at the table in the middle of the row whilst the rest of the Slytherins filled the seats around him, surrounding him like Auror's surrounding the Minister for Magic, not that he ranked anywhere near that standard. She was sourly eying the lot of them, not bothering to disguise her disgusted expression, when all of a sudden she noticed someone seated in the shadows of the very back corner of the classroom.

Fancy that! Blaise Zabini _was _in her Potions class!

And there he was, sitting as cool as a cucumber and looking as bored as if he'd been sitting there for hours. But Hermione was sure he hadn't. He couldn't have even been seated for more than a minute, because he hadn't been there when Hermione had scanned the room upon her arrival, and he most certainly hadn't entered as part of the Malfoy Cronies, so he must have come somewhere in between. But when? Hermione hadn't seen _or _heard the silent Slytherin's arrival, and she doubted anyone else had either. Her mouth scrunched to the corner as she marvelled at the soundless grace he seemed to move in. What a wonderful talent to possess; Hermione knew someone like Harry would definitely appreciate it.

But how Zabini got to the classroom didn't matter. What _did _matter was that he _was _there and Hermione could hand over the Potions book before class even started. She took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face, letting the air of her breath out in a long silent, controlled exhalation. She stood up, picking up her book and nudging her way past the still muttering Ron and Harry, who caught her eye questioningly.

'I have to give this book to Zabini,' Hermione nodded in the boy's direction as she explained hurriedly, knowing Slughorn could enter the class at any moment. Harry made a confused face, but didn't say anything more as Hermione continued through the seats and onto the Slytherin Territory. Her heart beat ominously in her chest.

She skipped up the gentle slope of steps to the back of the classroom and then – without hesitation – slipped into the last row. One by one, the voices in the classroom went silent, as all attention was nudged onto the Gryffindor who had dared cross the barrier between houses.

Of course, Zabini had seen Hermione approaching and now watched her with a blank, unreadable expression on his face which she refused to let get to her confidence, which was threatening to fall out from beneath her from the pressure of knowing that she had over _fifty pairs of eyes on her_. She swallowed hard and forced herself to look at Zabini. She smiled in a friendly smile as she approached him, but the sight of her gorgeous grin which must have dazzled him into forgetting to return it.

Yeah. Right.

'Zabini,' she addressed him and he nodded in greeting.

'Granger.'

Hermione awkwardly thrust the book into the space between them for him (and every other student in the dungeon room) to see, offering it to him with a polite smile and ignoring the self-conscious prickle on the back of her neck.

'Here,' she handed the book to him which he took, his jaded expression never faltering as he held the old texts in his lap, his feet propped up on the brace between the legs of his table. 'It's that Potions book you lent me yesterday,' she explained, in case someone had jinxed him with a memory loss spell. 'I thought I'd save us both the trip to the library. You'll just have to return it under my name.'

Zabini stared at the book in his hand and nodded, slowly thumbing through the pages.

'I told you you'd be finished today,' he remarked in a voice that clearly stated 'I was right and you were wrong' whilst still maintaining it's cynical 'couldn't care less' demeanour. Hermione glowered and a flood of regret flowed through her body.

'Oh – give that back!' she snapped through gritted teeth, snatching the book from the Slytherin's hands and holding it possessively against her chest as she marched away, not bothering to avoid the chairs which scraped loudly against the stone floor as she barged past them. She stormed down the aisle, muttering incessantly about ungrateful Slytherins with ridiculously big hands and stupid smirks and smug comments like they knew everything in the whole entire world, both muggle and magic. And as she angrily spun on the spot and began storming back to the silent boy watching her with expressionless eyes, the book swinging in her clenched hand, she muttered things about stupid Gryffindors and their stupid need to do good deeds and stupid Slughorn for ever setting that essay anyway, and most importantly, stupid, _stupid _Zabini for beating her to the book yesterday, because if he hadn't been so stupid neither of them would be in the current position!

As she gracelessly threw the book back into the Slytherin's lap, she ignored his raised eyebrows and leaned forward so that she could glare him right in the charcoal black eye.

And people thought _he_ was intimidating. _Pffft. _

'You're just real lucky I'm so bloody nice!' Hermione hissed menacingly at the dark-haired boy, ignoring the amused chuckles and disgusted snorts that erupted from her far from little audience. Hermione shot him one last scowl, which he deflected with a smirk that appeared at the corner of his mouth, and she furiously made her way back to her seat, which she sat in for the rest of the lesson, fuming.


	2. Common Courtesy

**Uh, I don't know if I need to warn you guys, but the SH word (gasp!) is mentioned TWICE in this chapter. **

**2 – Common Courtesy**

Hermione strolled languorously through the open doors of the library, revelling in the cool air that instantly engulfed her and filled her delicate nose with the scent of ancient pages, worn leather and faded carpet. She smiled absently to herself as she wound her way between the study tables to one that stood against the tall window that looked out over the lake. Warm sunlight streamed through the glass panes and lit up the polished wood of the table, basking its surface in a cheerful glow.

Hermione hadn't come to study today, just for some leisurely reading; so Hermione pushed the stuffed leather chair against the window before sitting in it, leaning her back against the glass. Now she sat in the small cubicle formed by the window, table and the back of her chair and the soft rays of midday sunlight that managed to weave their way through Hermione's mane of chocolate curls splayed across the pages of her book heartily.

Picture perfect. Hermione smiled as she flipped her novel.

She was well into the second chapter of her book when a shadow flickered across her peripheral vision and moved over the long block of sunlight that shimmered and stretched out over the carpet in front of her, provided by the window. Although it was no more than a second of darkness that didn't even shade her book, it irked Hermione just enough so that her gaze flicked over her shoulder to glance at what – or who – had dared fly past her window and steal her sunlight. Her gaze was millimetres from being back on the pages of her novel before she realized there was nothing soaring around outside. She turned once more, leaning away from the glass to get a better view. She could spot nothing but a wide, never-ending span of clear blueness, interrupted only by the occasional wisp of lazy afternoon cloud that looked like an enlarged trail of white smoke erupting from the end of a tobacco pipe.

Hermione frowned at the blue nothingness and turned back to her book – the engaging words already beginning to vacuum up her attention – but not before her eyes caught onto the retreating form of Blaise Zabini.

A real life shadow.

Hermione watched, a small frown on her face, as the cause for the tarnished moment sat at a desk in the corner of the library, far, far away from the bright rays of sunshine that erupted from her window, and opened a book on its surface.

Hermione didn't need to look at the book to know it was the one she'd lent him yesterday, but she did anyway. The pages in her own hands forgotten, she let her eyes rove bitterly over the faded red material cover of the old textbook – which was mostly covered by one hand – and the yellowed pages as they were overturned by another. That unappreciative cow of a wizard didn't deserve that book. She shouldn't have given it to him in the first place because he was totally and utterly _ungrateful_. Hermione vaguely let her gaze travel up the Slytherin's arm, shoulder and then up to his neck – where it abruptly halted because Zabini had suddenly gone stiff. His shoulders tensed and his head snapped up from the book.

Hermione's gaze was only a nano-second too slow in their haphazard drop to the book in her hands. Zabini's head turned and he met her gawk with a confused and cautious stare before Hermione could look away. Her own neck now prickling off the red alert that someone – ten guesses as to whom – was watching her. _Way to be subtle, Hermione, _she silently berated fiercely as she blushed and let her curls fall to cover her face from his probing eyes.

Hermione thoroughly chewed her bottom lip and self-consciously hauled her legs up onto the edge of her seat so that her body became a small, awkward-looking ball sitting in the cubicle of furniture. Seconds passed before she plucked up the courage to peer over at the Slytherin, and even then it was from behind the cover of her knees. The underside of her nose bookishly brushed the top of her hardback, lying open between her legs and chest.

Hermione's face flushed a red that successfully rivalled the brightness of Ron's hair as she forcefully stared at the lines of her book after looking up only to meet Zabini's continuing stare for a fleeting moment. But as she slowly and purposefully read the words dancing across her vision, they turned into more of a mantra because she found herself having to read the same line over and over due to lack of concentration.

Feeling a fair bit stupid for staring at the Slytherin and then being _caught _staring – _twice – _Hermione took a deep breath (_heeeeee_). No longer focusing on the book in her hands, she counted to five in her mind, and then exhaled very slowly, her lips a puckered O (_huuuuuuuuh)_. Her face temperature felt back to normal now and the hairs on the nape of her neck had finally lain back down.

Good. Now she could focus on the wonderful literature in her hands.

…

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, making a quiet, strangled groan of what some might have taken to be pain.

And in a way, she was feeling pain. Feeling painfully curious, that is.

She just _had _to know if Zabini wasn't watching her anymore or if her neck was malfunctioning and he _was_. She just _had _to.

Good.

Zabini was bent over a piece of parchment, apparently writing his Potions essay and oblivious to Hermione's ogling.

Good.

But oh Merlin, the boy was arrogance on legs! Acting like he was the King of the World when he did little more than smirk and breathe! That absolute _twat. _He didn't even say 'thank you' (two simple words!) when she'd gone _out of her way_ to be _courteous,_ _unprejudiced, trusting _and _generous _to lend him that damn textbook – knowing full well he could very easily damage or lose it and then make _her _pay the fine, and what does he do? He… he… acts Slytherin. Hermione sighed. What was she expecting? A huge beam and over-enthusiastic appreciation of a Hufflepuff? The knowledgeable gratitude of a Ravenclaw? The warm smile and polite thanks of a Gryffindor? No. Zabini was Slytherin and they were all the same. For all she knew, he was planning on insulting her heritage if she _hadn't _been so kind as to return the favour he'd extended towards her earlier the other day. But that was the _thing! _He'd acted so _un-evil _that she'd let her mind get carried away in thinking that he – out of all the legions of past Snakes – was different.

It disgusted her.

_They _disgusted her. Hermione had every right to march right up to him and take back that book, even if she had finished the essay. And what if he _did _lose or damage the book? Hermione's heart stopped beating. Her throat tightened. What if he tore out pages and then spilt ink over the remaining ones and then returned it under her name? She'd never be trusted again! She'd be shunned from the endless shelves of books the library held, doomed to do her homework forever by copying off information researched by Harry and Ron! _Dooomed!_ Never again would she hear Madame Pince call her 'sweetling' and on top of that; _she'd _feel terribly guilty for ever trusting the dirty Slytherin with the book in the first place! ARGH!

Hermione's fingers fretfully dug into the hard cover of her book but she didn't notice as she continued to glare at the back of Zabini's head, just waiting for him to scream out in pain and collapse on the floor in a writhing heap.

Come on… any second now.

Urgh! That stupid Slytherin with his stupidly smug smirk could take that stupid book and just shove it up his stupid Slytherin –

'Hermione, you're muttering again.'

Hermione's fingers instantly loosened around her book and, at the back of her mind, she sorrowfully noted she'd have to magic away the half-moon indents she'd left. Forcing the menace from her warm brown eyes and smiling in an I'm-_not_-crazy fashion, Hermione turned to see Ron looking at her with a mingled look of pity and caution on his freckled face. His hands were awkwardly jammed in his pockets.

'Hi Ron,' she greeted him innocently.

He raised his eyebrows at her, not fooled.

'I'll tell you what you need to do,' he remarked, leaning his bum against her table so that he was looking down at her with exaggerated sympathy. He crossed his arms before continuing knowingly, 'You need to _build a bridge,'_ he looked at her meaningfully, '_and get over it, _as I've heard Ginny say. So he didn't say thank you; big deal!' Ron shrugged indifferently.

'It's not just that he didn't say thank you, Ron,' Hermione explained tiredly; she'd already been through this with him.

'I know, I know – he humiliated you in front of the whole class, didn't even acknowledge your generosity, and acts too smug for his own good. _I know. _Ju – _will you stop glaring at him?_ Merlin, you're like my mum glaring at the man who got the last can of beans.' 

Ron grabbed Hermione's chin and persistently tugged at it, redirecting her face to look at him. Hermione scowled and slapped his hand away, but did not look back to Zabini.

'I'm glad you were listening at least,' she muttered darkly. 'It's just common courtesy – you know? That's what got me. He took my good deed and passed it off as something he _expected _from me. Like I have as much worth in his eyes as a… a…'

'House elf?'

Hermione glared at him, not wanting to admit that's what she was about to say.

Ron rolled his eyes. 'You didn't do anything wrong, Hermione,' he assured her, though not sounding very compassionate, although Hermione didn't expect any better. 'It's that idiot who didn't appreciate your heart being in the right place.'

'That's exactly what I'm saying!' Hermione cried, relieved and smiling now that someone _finally _got that she wasn't just being childish. 'Common courtesy,' she stated firmly, throwing her hand into the air as if to say 'duh!'

'Right,' agreed Ron, with the same tone of determination. 'You know,' he continued conversationally, 'if it helps, I think building a bridge would be fun.'

All hope and relief drained from Hermione's features leaving behind a bitter mask of disappointment.

'Well thank you, Ron. I'm sure _someone _here greatly appreciates your opinion on the construction of bridges and will take it into account. Now take your fake sympathy and _sod off_.'

Ron scowled sarcastically. 'How nice.'

Hermione watched Ron, grinning charmingly when he shot her another unamused glare before pushing himself off the edge of the table and sauntering off to the library exit. As soon as he was gone, she sighed and leant back against the window pane once more, ready to let herself sink into her reading mode. Only… she felt her gaze being tugged reluctantly back to another book, way on the other side of studying area.

Her lips scrunched to the side and her nose wrinkled regretfully as she stared at Zabini over the tops of her knees.

He really didn't deserve that book.

Zabini suddenly threw down his quill and his body swivelled round to glare at Hermione accusingly. His tightly drawn expression led Hermione to believe were they not in the library, he'd have rudely bellowed, 'What?!' for all Hogwarts to hear. When all she could do was gawk at him with wide, surprised and guilty eyes; he rolled his eyes and stood up, pushing his chair with the backs of his knees before approaching Hermione. Purpose, determination and aggravation were very clearly evident in his every step/shuffle/glide. He stopped at the edge of Hermione's table, about an arm's length away from her so that she had to tilt her chin up to look him in the face. By now, Hermione's blush had returned and the only thing keeping her from darting from the library with every intention of denying she had ever looked the guy's way was the fact that she felt a strange satisfaction filling her gut, as if this is what she'd been waiting for; a chance to let him know she wasn't happy with his behaviour.

Very Mrs Weasley, she knew.

'Hello, Zabini,' she greeted him curtly and as per usual, he nodded.

'Granger.'

'What brings you here?'

'Why do you keep staring at me?'

'I'm not staring, I'm _glaring. _There's a significant difference.'

'I'm just trying to do my essay.'

'With _my _book.'

'The _library's _book that _you _lent me. Why are you so pissy?' Zabini demanded, shrugging his shoulders in wonder.

Hermione's eyes narrowed sourly. Her feet were tense where they perched on the edge of her seat, and she prayed to whoever was up there that she didn't lose control and let one of them lash out and catch Zabini where it hurts.

'I'm not _pissy,_' she corrected icily.

'Then why the hell are you bloody _glaring _at me from across the room when I have done nothing to offend you? What – is it that time of the month again?' Hermione bottom lip dropped away from her upper and she gaped at Zabini in disgust. Since when did he speak so much?

'_No, it is not!' _she hissed at him, her fingers clawing at her book once more as her feet dropped from her chair, raising a puff of dust from the carpet as they hit the floor with a forceful thud. She leaned towards him angrily. 'I lend you that book out of the goodness of my heart –' Zabini scoffed lightly, 'and you don't even say thank you! In fact, you act all smug and shit, treat me like your personal _servant, _and humiliate me in front of the entire class!'

Zabini didn't even blink as Hermione practically spat the words at him. His face was quite frankly blank and maybe that's why she decided she would despise him forever.

'Whoa,' said Zabini cynically. 'Did the Gryffindor Princess just _swear?_'

Realizing she was never going to get an apology or even an acknowledgment from the arrogant Slytherin, Hermione rolled her eyes heatedly.

'Oh, shut up, Zabini,' she said harshly before leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs, already starting to ignore the Slytherin as he too rolled his eyes, her eyes instead focussing on the book in her hands. 'And learn some common courtesy,' she muttered as an after-thought.

Just then, a distant, panicked yell was heard from outside the window and Hermione turned to see what was wrong. She managed to make out the shape of someone on a broom a fair distance away, waving his or her arms hysterically and redirecting her gaze to a large black blot hurtling towards her. Hermione squinted at the object and she briefly registered Zabini's cool, warning voice.

'Granger –'

Someone grabbed the back of her shirt, jerking her roughly backwards so that she toppled off the chair. The window shattered as she fell, and Hermione threw her arms up to shield her face from the brilliant display of flying shards.

And then everything went black.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Slowly, Hermione started to realize things in the groggy, incoherent manner of someone who wasn't fully conscious.

She felt dizzy. Her head throbbed incessantly. She couldn't see anything. She didn't _want_ to see anything.

'Aw, jeez.'

Someone's strangled, reluctant voice. Calling; 'Madame Pince –'

'My sweetling!'

She was here. 'What happened?' She sounded angry. What was wrong? 'Did she get hit?'

There were other noises. People? Or was it the wind? Like leaves rustling… Hermione listened.

'Think…git…punched…'

The rest was murmurs. Hermione's hands came up to hold her head, to try and stifle the violent throbs.

'What _happened?' _Hermione wanted to ask, but it came out as an incomprehensible; 'Eeeeurgh…'

'Oh, Miss Granger, the poor darling…'

Cool hands pattered her forehead, but it felt like they were trying to push her into the ground, or off the edge of a cliff, and she was swaying forward, about to topple over into the abyss. She was struggling to see even the black that surrounded her now; everything was going fuzzy, being smothered by a dull, deafening silence.

'What happened?' the lady asked again, her sharp, close voice slicing through the dullness. Hermione had forgotten who the lady was.

'Er… that – um- that toy bludger broke the window. Hit her head.'

Hermione heard gasps, followed by concerned muttering.

'Whoa… guess… didn't punch her… who's bludger… window…._trouble!_ …'

'Oh!' gasped the lady once more. 'She must be just barely conscious…. What are we dilly-daddling for?' she was speaking very fast now and it was confusing Hermione so much it almost hurt. 'Mr Zabini I'm afraid you're going have to carry Miss Granger to the Hospital Wing. Come on, now - _Quickly!'_

'Aw, Merlin, Madame Pince…'

'Hurry_ up, _Mr Zabini!'

'I'm pretty sure one of the Weasley's just left, I could go get him for you… I'm sure _he'd _be more than willing…'

'_Mr Zabini, _you will _take_ Miss Granger to the Hospital Wing _this instant._ I shall warn Madame Pomfrey of your arrival from here so that she will have a bed ready. Quick sticks!'

Hermione felt her body loll about as it was lifted by an invisible force towards the sky – to Heaven…. She was ascending into Heaven…

But then she was sitting in a chair with her legs dangling over one arm and her head resting against the back. Her fingers probed against something that felt like someone had tried to make comfortable by covering its hard surface in a thin layer of soft, warm padding. The whole thing was covered in a thin fabric… like a muggle bus seat.

Obviously, someone had punched her and she'd landed in the bus to Heaven.

As the noise started fading away, and only a soft, level whooshing noise could be heard from just above her left ear, Hermione gave up trying to keep the dullness away. It swarmed over the darkness, making everything fuzzy and blunt.

La, lala, la, la… off to Heaven.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hermione's eyes fluttered open sleepily but then screwed shut immediately as the blinding light mercilessly burned her corneas. She buried her face in the solid mass that leant against her head, trying in vain to escape the light.

'Whoa,' she muttered absently to herself against the soft fabric, 'that is really _bright.' _

'Interesting... Get your nose out of my armpit, Granger.'

That nonchalant, bored voice could only belong to one person.

'Eeurgh!' Hermione cried, her head jerking out of the crook between Zabini's arm and his chest – not necessarily his _armpit_ – and his grip on her instinctively tightened as she threatened to fall out of his hold. 'Ow,' Hermione muttered as she was jolted back against what she now realized was his chest and she nursed her temple tenderly as it throbbed with the sudden movements. She looked around at her surroundings through barely open eyes, now able to see that they were walking through a deserted corridor. Wait – _they?_

'Why are you carrying me?' demanded Hermione, panic and embarrassment beginning to blossom in her stomach. 'Put me down!' She kicked her legs through the air like a small child, wiggling in Zabini's surprisingly tight hold.

Zabini groaned softly in irritation, twisting his neck away from Hermione struggling body, as if afraid one of her flailing hands would sock him in the eye.

'Will you stop kicking?' He asked, annoyed, and Hermione obeyed with a defeated sigh, a pout evident on her lips.

'_Ow-wer_,' she muttered again angrily as the aching in her head grew.

'You got hit in the head.'

'No _shit_, Sherlock.'

'Who?'

Hermione sighed again as she hung limply in Zabini's arms. This was not her day.

'Can't you put me down?' she asked tiredly, ignoring his question about Sherlock Holmes.

'Love to,' retorted Zabini sincerely. 'But I can't. Madame Pomfrey's expecting us.'

'_Us?' _

'Yes; us.'

Hermione sighed. 'Fine,' she sighed. 'So put me down and I'll walk. I'm not handi-capped, you know.'

'Put you down so you can walk into the nearest wall?' objected Zabini acrimoniously, and Hermione scowled as she realized he was right; her head was spinning slightly and she doubted it would help being upright and moving.

Hermione moaned loudly, frustrated.

'Keep it down,' hissed Zabini.

'Why?' she shot back, her aggravation making her lash out.

'Because someone might hear you.'

'So?'

'You want someone to run around the corner and see us like this?' Zabini asked, irritation evident in his usually expressionless voice. 'Another reason why I'm not putting you down; the faster we get there the less of a chance someone might see us and the better.'

Hermione scowled at her hands in her lap, refusing to look at him.

'…You suck,' she told him dejectedly. Out the corner of her eye, she saw him smirk, though he didn't comment.

A few minutes later, Zabini walked through the tall, heavy oak doors with Hermione lying crossly in his arms. Madame Pomfrey appeared in front of him instantly with a sharp, alert look in her huge eyes .

'Quick, over there,' she directed him bossily, thrusting a gnarled finger to a bed in the far corner. 'Where does it hurt?' she asked Hermione eagerly, pushing her glasses further up her thin nose and practically skipping alongside Zabini's fast, purposeful pace.

'Er, my head hurts a little,' Hermione replied uncertainly.

'And those cuts? Do they hurt? How did you get them?' she demanded, making Hermione feel like she was in the middle of an interrogation. Hermione followed Madame Pomfrey's analysing gaze and looked down at her own arms in surprise, noticing for the first time the small red cuts littering her pale skin, some deeper ones on her upper arms and shoulders that managed to slice through her shirt. There must have been a few on her face too.

'Oh,' she said, still shocked as she lifted her arms for further inspection. 'Well, um, they don't hurt, but I'm not sure how I got them….'

'The glass shattered on top of her,' Zabini cut in and Madame Pomfrey nodded seriously. Hermione looked up at him in surprise but he was staring at Madame Pomfrey.

They arrived at the bed and Madame Pomfrey expertly pulled back the covers before bustling off to collect some medicine. As Zabini slowly and wordlessly lowered her onto the bed, Hermione looked up to thank him but stopped short when she noticed how close his face was. Almost instantly, her eyes flicked accidently down to his thin, firm-looking lips, which were millimetres from her own. She forgot to breathe. When she nervously looked back up at to Zabini's eyes again, they were locked on hers. Waves of heat were emanating from her toes up to her head and the dizziness there increased as Hermione found she couldn't look away from the dark irises that looked like black, polished gems. She was aware of Zabini still lowering her onto the bed, leaning over her in an incredibly uncomfortable manner, and his face still a breath away from hers and his eyes wide and clear as they bore into hers. Later, when she found herself analysing these few seconds, Hermione noted he looked just as surprised by their position as she was. Goosebumps erupted over her skin, making the scratches on her arms tingle, and Hermione tore her gaze her away from the daunting Slytherin, blush upon blush staining her cheeks.

She bit her bottom lip and focussed on the sheets below her as Zabini practically dropped her body the rest of the way onto the bed and then abruptly pulled his arms away and straightened. Only moments later Madame Pomfrey appeared at the foot of her bed, a jar of cream in her hands.

'Here you go, pumpkin,' the nurse said to Hermione, setting the jar on her bedside table. Hermione smiled her thanks as the nurse pulled the sheets up to her stomach.

'Thank you for escorting her here, Mr Zabini,' Madame Pomfrey said briskly as she grabbed one of Hermione arms and began lathering on a dollop of the cream, much to Hermione's alarm. 'You may leave now.'

'Wait,' Hermione said quickly as Zabini nodded and turned to leave, and he turned back to look at her over his shoulder, his face blank but for the slight knit of his eyebrows. The corner of Hermione's lips upturned in an awkward but appreciative smile. 'Thanks.'

And that, she thought proudly to herself, is how one acts when an act of courtesy has been bestowed upon them.

Zabini nodded once more. 'You're welcome,' he muttered gruffly, much to Hermione's surprise, before turning and disappearing behind the crisp white curtains that surrounded Hermione's bed.


	3. Hiding

**3 – Hiding**

Hermione hurried down a long corridor, drawing her flailing robes tighter around her body and trying to keep her footsteps light. She'd spent the whole day doing this – running from a Hufflepuff fifth year named Lachlan Holmes, who was devastated when his toy bludger crashed through the library window and connected violently with Hermione's skull. He had apologized _twenty-three _times since, and still did not seem convinced that was enough. He'd bought Hermione Get Well Roses with an attached card that told exceptionally funny jokes. Hermione had thought this was very nice and had sent him a thank you letter via Pigwidgeon. But then he'd apologized publically in front of her Charms class – the one with Lavender and Pavarti in it. Rumours flew and poor Lachlan was still convinced Hermione held against him a grudge that he would surely perish because of.

_Twenty-three apologies. _

Oh yeah; Hermione was running. In fact – Hermione was _fleeing. _

Trying hard to contain her too-loud, heavy breaths, Hermione hauled herself around another corner, running on the tippiest tips of her tip-toes. She desperately towed open the heavy door to the Prefects Bathroom, after whispering the password which was almost drowned out by her gasping breaths. Already, she could hear the frantic, though lost footsteps of Lachlan just rounding the corner. She bolted inside the bathroom and snapped shut the door, not even bothering to try and soften the slam. She let her body fall against the door in relief and leant her forehead against the cool wood, a small smile starting to break out. She let herself slowly slide to the tiled floor as her heart began to return to its normal rate, a giggle escaping from her throat.

She was free. _FREE! _

She turned around, leaning her back against the door and letting her legs collapse out in front of her… and almost had a coronary.

'Sweet Merlin!' she gasped angrily to the tall teenager who stood languidly next to the large swimming pool of a bathtub, dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and nothing else. He was watching her with his face empty but for the amused quirk of his lips at the corner. Naturally, because Hermione was brought up to be embarrassed about these kinds of things, she blushed a brick red at the sight of his naked chest and instantly averted her eyes to glare instead into his dark cobalt eyes.

Bloody hell. Nice subtleness, Granger.

She decided to mask her embarrassment as anger and hastily snapped; 'You're not a Prefect!'

Zabini smirked.

'Neither are you.'

'I'm Head Girl. I'm allowed to be here,' She reminded him in a breathless voice, struggling to keep her haughty tone.

Zabini nodded, and Hermione took it to say 'fair enough'. She eyed him warily as he began to move closer, conveniently not noticing the water droplets that hung like Christmas baubles from his hair, and shone brightly against his naked torso.

'I take it you didn't come in here to take a bath,' Zabini remarked as he stopped a respectable distance from Hermione, though she still was forced to look up at him from her spot on the floor, which she was really regretting taking up. His hands were tucked in his pockets in his usual casual stance.

Hermione grimaced guiltily. 'You're right,' she admitted after a while, though did not say any more. Zabini was smirking again.

'Hiding from Holmes?' he asked smugly and Hermione instinctively scowled – a reflex that had developed over the last few days at the mocking mention of Lachlan's name. It wasn't really his (Lachlan's) fault, and she had nothing against _him _personally, just the fact that he was a bit too insecure for his own good. She'd said 'it's ok, Lachlan, really,' about fifteen times today in about fifteen different ways and three different languages. And after all this, Hermione had come to the conclusion that Lachlan was just a tad bit thick. She sighed inwardly at the mere thought of tomorrow.

'Yes,' she confessed dejectedly, but then remembered who she was talking to. 'Merlin – will you put on a shirt? You're in a public place you know!' she reminded him in her best Head Girl voice. Zabini merely looked at Hermione with that one eyebrow raised in a now annoyingly familiar manner. His look told her quite clearly that he thought her mentally impaired.

'_Actually_,' he drawled, 'it was quite a private place until you came barging in.'

The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched as she struggled to think of something to say because quite frankly, she'd been burned. Seconds ticked by in which Hermione glared at Zabini thoroughly. In the end, she decided to mimic him in a squeaky, high-pitched and distorted voice nothing like his, because that had always been the best comeback when she was six.

Aw, darn it. She was so bad at being aloof and mean; it was almost unfair.

Zabini gave a snort of uncontained hilarity and Hermione swiftly turned her back to him, pressing her ear dedicatedly against the door to listen for Lachlan's footsteps. It was the first time she'd ever heard Zabini make any noise associated with amusement, but the fact that it was at her expense made her wish she could have lived a life of considering herself lucky to have witnessed a smirk.

'That's some great wit you've got there, Granger,' remarked Zabini, and Hermione noticed his voice was once again blank but for the teeniest hint of mockery that she did not appreciate.

'Shut up,' she barked, wondering if the smoke billowing from her ears was visible. 'And go put a goddamn shirt on!'

'If it bothers you that much,' complied Zabini, walking to a bench and picking up a grey tank and slipping it over his head. Hermione stared at the tiles as she forced herself to listen to the eerie silence outside the door.

Suddenly, Zabini was right behind her. Stupid gosh darn silent Slytherin.

'Granger. Move. As much as it appeals to me, I've better things to do than spend the afternoon in the Prefects Bathroom with you,' he said, staring down at her impatiently. Embarrassed as she was from his sarcastic comment, Hermione shot upwards, making Zabini take a surprised step back as she covered the door with her body.

'You can't go!' she cried in alarm and for a second, Zabini's coolly composed face faltered as his eyes widened in astonishment. But that was only for a second.

'Why not?' he asked impassively.

'Because if Lachlan sees you come out, he'll most definitely have a peek inside here just to check if I'm here too and then it'll be like I'm the Pope and Lachlan's come for confession! He'll say 'I'm sorry' about twenty times verbally, and then hand me a card and a teddy bear and a bouquet of roses that all sing the cursed words over and over in different pitches about thirty-seven times. And _then_ he'll insist on walking me to my dorm!' She paused to take a few deep breaths, looking pleadingly at Zabini. 'You can't leave,' she heaved, refusing to admit to herself she'd sunk to the level of begging. '– not yet.'

Zabini merely stared at her for a while. And then he pushed her aside and Hermione was afraid he was going to walk out anyway, but he just leaned forward and pressed his ear to the door also. She stared at the Slytherin in amazement, and wasn't surprised when the corners of her lips lifted in a stunned but pleased smile.

She crouched down a little so that she could also press her ear to the door, careful to make sure no part of her body was touching the Slytherin, eventually giving up on the awkward position and sliding down onto her haunches, so she was level with Zabini's knee. They listened in a silence that wasn't at all awkward, like Hermione had dreaded it would be, but more anticipating. Lachlan's footsteps were approaching.

'Hermione…' she heard him calling despairingly. Unwillingly, Hermione's eyes slid up from beneath her lashes to notice Zabini's smirk, which she had known would be there. She still sneered at him and looked back down at the tiles, pressing her ear firmer to the door; sure that Lachlan was only one or two metres from the door now. It was at times like these that she thoroughly wished that she invested in the Weasley Twin's products more, so that she might have a pair of Extendable Ears on her.

She held her breath as Lachlan's soft, shuffling footsteps slowed to a stop for a few brief seconds. Did he know about the Prefects bathroom? More importantly – did he know the _password _to the Prefects bathroom? Above her, Hermione thought she heard Zabini sigh impatiently but couldn't be sure, the sound was so quite it could have easily been her own shallow breaths. Although, when she peeked another look up at the uncharacteristic Slytherin, he did have that blank look of utter boredom on his face. But then again, that blank look of utter boredom was _always _there. In some form or another.

Eventually, Lachlan's footsteps echoed into silence but Hermione held still in her crouched position, her breath bated as she waited for him to unexpectedly yank open the door she leant against, yelling 'Gotcha, Hermione! _I'm sorry!' _in a horrifically proud and smug voice, with an equally horrifically fake, happy face. After a few seconds of silence, Zabini pulled away from the door, the leg of his jeans brushing against Hermione's bum, making her stiffen and blush a bright red. Not even a quarter of a second later, Hermione felt a cool wetness plop against the back of her burning neck, both surprises making her topple back on the balls of her feet to land unceremoniously on her bum, a small squeak escaping her lips.

'What?' asked Zabini blankly as she glared up at him from her position on the floor, his hand already on the doorknob. Hermione wondered if he was planning on saying goodbye before he left, maybe in the form of a nonchalant 'see ya'?

'You dripped on me,' Hermione grumbled accusingly, wiping the water off her neck with the back of her neck. 'Why didn't you wipe yourself off properly? – Last time I checked, the just-walked-through-the-Niagara-Falls look was _not _in. I mean, you come from the rich family of Zabini, right? So it's not like you can't _afford _a good functioning towel…'

Hermione's angry mutterings were cut short as Zabini made a soft, rasping noise – and she could actually see a smidgeon of his _teeth._ She squinted at him curiously, wondering if he was experiencing some sort of fit.It took a while to realize that Zabini was smiling, his lips stretched and upturned into the strangest lop-sided smile she'd ever seen, though she couldn't help but note that it suited his face very well, and that the strange rasping noise was his _laugh. _ She blinked at him rapidly from her spot on the floor; not bothering to close her slightly gaping mouth as Zabini seemingly recovered from his little laughing episode and went back to his amused smirk. And then, she did something that she didn't even know she had instructions in her mind to do: she _smiled _at a _Slytherin. _It was a tentative, surprised smile, but it was still a smile and it was a smile that lingered on her face long enough to be noticed.

Ok – this was just getting down-right _out of hand. _She was fraternizing with the enemy. Yet – what was a little smile? Surely she was not _that _prejudiced. They'd somewhat successfully shared a book hadn't they? So a sharing a smile wasn't that big of a step.

Oh, who was she kidding? This had to stop.

As Hermione was holding the vivid discussion in her head, Zabini wondered back to the bench with all his belongings on it and picked up a rather fluffy and soft looking white towel, ruffling it through his hair shortly before he slung it over his shoulders. He raised an eyebrow with another wry smirk, obviously trying to telepath-ify the word 'happy?' into Hermione's mind. She nodded approvingly and another goddamn smile leaked onto her lips, but she was able to control this one and quickly locked it away. Zabini's hair was now sticking up every which way and as Hermione picked herself up off the floor, her hand was suddenly itching to reach up and smooth it down. She shoved it behind her back, clasping it tightly in the other hand. What was _wrong _with her?

'Bye,' she chirped quickly, as Zabini picked up a backpack – probably containing clothes, shampoo and other bath products – and began doing his weird saunter-shuffle towards the door. She swiftly stepped out of his way, keeping her traitorous hands locked behind her back and forcing a sweet, innocent smile on her face when he looked at her strangely for the sudden, rapid movement.

'Thanks for not leaving before,' she continued in her trying-to-be-nice voice. '… It was rather…' Why couldn't she just have left it at thanks? Now she had to find a word to describe the nice thing he'd done for her, and for some reason, her mind just wouldn't let the word 'nice' do the trick. '… Well… it wasn't something I expected from you – or any other Slytherin for that matter. In fact, I'm surprised I didn't just walk right out and surrender; I was pretty convinced it would have had the same result. I mean, it was _very _uncharacteristic in my opinion and –'

She caught Blaise's raised eyebrow, and then her eyes flicked down to his hand again, clutching at the door knob. Obviously, he couldn't wait to leave and had no idea why she wouldn't shut up. Well, neither did she. What the bloody _hell _was wrong with her?

'I won't judge you again,' Hermione concluded abruptly, deciding this was the best way to end her blabbering speech without making herself more of a fool. Cheeks on fire, Hermione awkwardly stuck out her hand for Blaise to shake. For a few seconds, it seemed Blaise was analyzing Hermione's face, scrutinizing it for any trace of hatred or trickery in her friendly gesture. But then, is face wiped clean of any emotion – making it irritatingly unreadable – he gently and smoothly placed his hand in Hermione's. She was surprised how warm his hand felt – like she'd been convinced it would ice cold – and that it wasn't as disproportionally giant as she had observed before – just a mighty lot larger than her own. She half-expected him to grip her hand too hard on purpose, possibly break a few bones, but the two shook hands briefly with a polite lightness. His eyes seemed to burn into Hermione's, and it annoyed her that as he was probably one of those people who saw everything a person was thinking in their eyes – and Hermione could see nada in his black ones, which suddenly weren't as daunting as before. It hit her that his eyes had never been necessarily _blank_, just so deep; like a swirling mass of black liquid – quite like what she'd felt she was floating in when that toy bludger hit her in the head – that it had the _illusion_ of being emotionless: too confusing and mysterious to hold any readable feeling. And suddenly, daunting took on a whole new meaning for her. Those eyes – even Blaise himself – were not _scary, _just too unreadable and mysterious to be decoded by just one simple glance, one single conversation. Suddenly, it was all very _intriguing._

When they let go it was another thing that stupidly surprised Hermione, like she'd been anticipating having to search for hours to find her small hand in Blaise's own massive one. When Hermione's hand fell back to her side, she ripped her eyes away from Blaise's, the movement jolting her mind out of its fascinated, thoughtful state and suddenly remembering where it was and exactly _who's _eyes it'd been engrossed in for a little _too _long. Aw, Merlin, this was just stupid now. She had to get away from him – and fast, before her every moral and principle about associating with Slytherin's was shredded into tiny bite-size pieces.

'Cool,' said Zabini in regard to Hermione's apology, and then his smirk had appeared on his thin lips once more. 'So can I go now?'

Hermione blushed again, nodding fervently.

'Sure.'

She watched, still feeling ridiculously embarrassed for coming across so eager-to-please and stammer-y, and insecure and so… _vulnerable. _Urgh. What happened to all the Gryffindor courage? Or didn't that cover good come-backs and a strong, clear voice?

She noticed that although Zabini had opened the door and although he was standing in the threshold of the cavernous bathroom and the empty hallway, a hand still gripping the polished brass doorknob, he was not making any movement into the deserted corridor. Hermione shot him a questioning look as he himself looked at her pointedly. He rolled his eyes impatiently.

'Go on,' he said edgily, jerking his head into the hallway, 'Ladies first, right?'

Hermione could not stop her eyes widening in amazement. Zabini's vacant expression became dry.

'What?' she asked casually, denying her obvious moment of surprise, though refusing to even sway towards the door he held open for her.

'It just fills me with such exuberance to know how much credit you give me,' he said sarcastically. 'What – Slytherins aren't allowed to have manners, either now? That's harsh, Granger. Especially for someone who just promised to be less judgmental a few seconds ago.' She could tell by his wry tone that he wasn't offended in the slightest, maybe even slightly amused, so Hermione made a face at him.

'_You've _gotta give _me _more credit for trying,' she protested and he shrugged, still standing in the doorway. 'Besides, we can't leave at the same time. If someone saw us – well, I've got enough rumours going around about me and Holmes waiting to be exterminated. You and I emerging out of the Prefects Bathroom together – what with you so wet and me all – well, I suppose _I'm _dry – but the point is, Lavender and Pavarti would have a field day.'

Zabini nodded slowly in understanding, though his face was as impassive as ever.

'Right. See ya, Granger.' And then he slinked silently into the hallway and was gone. Hermione counted to twenty under her breath after the peculiar Slytherin left before traipsing out the door happily; sure she would be able to get to Gryffindor Common Room – her safe zone from Lachlan – without running into the insecure bastard. She was practically skipping down the corridor, leaping around a corner, before she froze, depression threatening to take over her entire life in that second that she saw him.

'Lachlan… Hi.'


	4. Denial

**4 – Denial**

Her friends chatted carelessly, laughing at each other's jokes – lame and tasteful – and sipping at their butterbeer's in the brief, companionable silence in between. But Hermione couldn't bring herself to be interested. It wasn't that the group of people that surrounded the small circular table at The Three Broomsticks were not attention-worthy, it was just she did not feel like conversing today. She felt like observing.

At first she'd watched the new young bartender as he served the individuals who came up to the counter, watched him stammer as he mixed up orders, watched his eyes glaze over in concentration as he tried to remember where everything was and how to operate the complicated butterbeer dispenser. He'd wiped the back of his hand across his moist forehead exactly sixteen times now, and Hermione thought he'd pee in his pants under the pressure. She was smiling, half smug and amused and half sympathetic at the poor boys struggles when she recognized the back of one particular customer. The bartender handed a big steaming glass of butterbeer to the young man with the jet black, tousled hair and Hermione's eyes absent-mindedly lingered on his back, covered by a thick black coat specked with fresh snow flakes from outside, as it silently made its way to the back of the room, never touching nor disturbing anybody, ghosting past them like a shadow. He sat in the corner, facing away from Hermione so that she could only see his profile, though Hermione did not take any of this in. Just like any other curious human being after seeing someone with whom they were acquaintances but not exactly friends with, Hermione was busy recalling the several, brief times she'd acknowledged him, just to keep her mind busy.

Last Potions class, Hermione had finished reciting an answer for Slughorn and just as she'd looked down to carry on with her work, Hermione had caught Blaise Zabini's eye. His expression had not faltered but Hermione got the sense that since he did not look down, he was acknowledging her, the way normal people would smile or nod, or wave. Hermione had let the corner of her mouth tug into a small, crooked, friendly smile before ducking her head down once more, letting her dark brown curls cascade over her shoulder to cover her face.

And there was that other time, too; the_ first_ time, only a few days after she'd held him hostage in the Prefects Bathroom.

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'_Lachlan, honestly – my head feels _fine _and you can't even see the scratches anymore!' Hermione insisted after History of Magic that day when he persisted on joining the trio on their way to lunch, just in case Hermione was hit with a wave of nausea because of the blow to her head _six days ago _and passed out. _

_Lachaln pouted as he thought about this and Hermione could see the battle raging behind his eyes: believe her – or be a gentleman and stick around anyways, just in case she'd bluffing? _Argh, _it was infuriating! Hermione closed her eyes, trying to control her temper as it flared at this boys stubbornness, trying to think of the politest way to say 'piss off' – that is the politest way she hadn't used yet, if there were any. She breathed out in one hissing breath and opened her mouth to try again to get rid of what had become her second shadow, but Ron beat her to it._

'_Merlin, Holmes – will you just bugger off? She's bloody well fine – like she's told you about fifty million times, and I don't think I can take it anymore to be honest, mate! You're lucky she's got so much patience for ya, if it were me following her around for instance, I'd be armless, legless and freaking ball-less too by now!' _

_Lachlan looked flabbergasted. He stared at Ron unblinking, as if wondering if _he _were bluffing too. Ron shrugged indifferently, as if to assure the younger boy that he was telling the truth. Lachlan turned to Hermione._

'_Really?' he asked in barely a whisper and Hermione was relieved to see he did not seem hurt at Ron's insensitive outburst, just plain horrified. She sighed._

'_Yeah, kind of,' she admitted awkwardly, hugging her books tighter to her chest uncomfortably. 'Sorry.'_

'_Holy moly – why dintcha just say so? Merlin, Hermione, I never meant to annoy you.'_

'_Yeah I know.'_

'_Gosh, I'm real sorry,' he laughed nervously. 'Well, this is embarrassing, huh?'_

_Hermione nodded, blushing. 'It's fine. You meant well.' _

'_Yeah I did, I'm glad you know that,' he laughed again. 'I'll see you around alright? I've gotta go find my mates, they've been complaining about not seeing me anymore, since I've been with you.'_

_Hermione nodded, since for some reason, she didn't think a sarcastic 'fancy that' was what Lachlan needed right now. Lachlan raised a hand in farewell and then strolled away into the crowd. _

'_Jeez, about time…' muttered Ron darkly and Harry laughed lightly in response. Hermione sighed loudly in liberation, feeling a smile beginning to stretch across her face._

'Finally_,' she agreed wholeheartedly. _

_The trio began making their way towards the Great Hall for lunch, but not before Hermione noticed that a certain dark corner next to a set of armour was not caused by a shadow at all, but a person. Zabini was leaning casually against the sturdy armour, watching the trio with the interest of someone with nothing better to do, a smirk tugging at his lips. She was almost positive he too was remembering the reason for their few minutes imprisoned in the Prefects Bathroom and, caught off-guard, Hermione smiled triumphantly in greeting, knowing he would have seen the exchange. The smile was one that clearly said 'Look! I did it! I got rid of Holmes!' But it wasn't something she'd usually direct to someone like Zabini, and as realization hit her, Hermione was sure that Zabini would either completely ignore her, or sneer and walk away with the arrogant air of someone too superior to even consider talking to someone like her. But Zabini did not move a muscle, not even to avert his gaze. Instead, Hermione saw the recognition in his eyes, and managed to notice the fraction of a centimetre that his head lifted in response. He was saying 'Well done, Granger,' – she knew it. But she didn't dare wave, in case Harry or Ron noticed the brief exchange, and so smiled her 'thanks' before returning her attention to the boys, immersing herself into the conversation and soon forgetting the strange encounter altogether._

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There had been a few occasions such as these, where the pair would exchange brief and distant greetings that sometimes seemed more like mute conversations. It seemed normal, the way you would greet someone who you once met at a friend's party, but did not wish to get close to, but Hermione knew it wasn't. It wasn't normal for a Gryffindor to willingly smile at a Slytherin, who did not sneer in return. But she didn't think much of it, because what was it but a teeny tiny aspect of her life? In fact, this was the first time she'd ever really thought about it. She wasn't friends with Zabini, but she definitely didn't hate him either. She didn't like him, not even the way she liked Dean Thomas or Seamus Finnigan, but she didn't dislike him either. They were acquaintances, and Hermione didn't really know what to think of him. So far, he'd proven all her assumptions wrong, and she didn't know what he thought of her, either. But somehow, she knew that he respected her, as she did him.

Hermione's mind stirred curiously as she remembered how intrigued she'd been with Zabini, and she knew that it – the curiosity and interest in the mysterious character – still remained. Wouldn't it be nice to know how he thought? How his mind worked? Wouldn't it be interesting to know about his life at home, away from Hogwarts? As Hermione let her inquisitiveness run wild, a small part of her mind exploded with the realization that she was obsessing. Her thoughts were cut short, and she blinked rapidly, hurriedly looking away from Zabini's face and back to The New Guy behind the counter. As the impact of realization began to ebb away, it left behind some kind of amusement. She felt like giggling. She'd been obsessing over _Blaise Zabini – _

just because he wasn't what she thought he'd be. He was different, so what? Hermione wondered what she would do if suddenly, Draco Malfoy held open a door for her. She snorted.

'Er, Hermione – you right there?' asked Ron from across the table, looking at her as if she wore the blue ribbon for The Biggest Weirdo in the Wizarding World. She blushed.

'Fine, thanks.'

There was a pause as Ron continued to watched her, obviously seeing through innocent expression. But he decided not to comment on it.

'Cool.'

That's what she loved about Ron. He wasn't too pushy; he didn't try to understand things that weren't his to understand. Except about stupid guy things, like the inevitable question when Neville eventually planted one on Luna – 'so how was she?'

Eventually, when there was no one who wasn't participating in the conversation to notice it, Hermione let her gaze flick back to the Slytherin at the back of the room, only to lay eyes on an empty chair. Had he really finished his butterbeer that quickly?

Hermione looked about wildly, scooting her chair back to get a better view over the heads of her friends. The back of her chair collided against something hard and Hermione looked back to see Zabini just passing her chair, like his thighs wouldn't have bruises the next morning from the force of the wooden back.

'Sorry!' she squeaked in whole-hearted apology, unable to keep the heat from flushing her cheeks, even though Zabini couldn't possibly know she'd been ardently searching for _him _when she'd hit him. He looked back, his swirling black eyes unreadable as always, but did not stop weaving between the tables towards the door.

'It's cool,' he said casually before pushing open the door and disappearing into Diagon Alley outside. She looked back to the table guiltily, as if expecting someone to tell her off for being so obsessed with the Slytherin, even for those few seconds, but the group had plunged right back into their conversation, as if the small fiasco had never happened. Hermione would've bet her left leg they hadn't even bother to identify the person who'd forgiven Hermione just a few seconds ago. She smiled.

Minutes passed in which Hermione tried fervently to become involved in the jolly conversations being held around her, yet her efforts only consisted of one or two sentences. Eventually, she couldn't find the exertion within her to be bothered staying in the Three Broomsticks and stood up, pushing her chair back carefully after checking for anyone behind her.

'Where're you going?' asked Ginny, looking up from her position next to Harry, with his arm draped over her shoulders.

'Um, I'll think I'll go for a walk…' replied Hermione, only just coming up with the plan herself as she stretched her arms out over her head, loving the feel of her muscles stretching on her shoulders and arms.

'Did you want some company?' asked Ron, though Hermione could tell he was only asking out of politeness and didn't really want to leave the circle of friends.

'That's alright Ron,' she replied with a smile. 'I'll be fine.'

Ron smiled in return and Hermione turned to leave the Three Broomsticks, waving back at Luna, Neville, Harry and Ginny too.

The chilly air was crisp against her cheeks and the air cool and refreshing in her lungs as Hermione made her way through the iced streets of Hogsmeade. She shoved her hands in the pockets and ignored her hair as it whipped against her face, making her way purposefully to a place that she knew would keep her entertained, if not busy. Eventually, Hermione arrived at her destination and pushed open the door to 

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, instantly being engulfed by the huge crowd of Hogwarts students taking advantage of their Hogsmeade trip to stock up on dungbombs and the like. She pushed and shoved her way to the back of the store, where behind the counter stood Fred Weasley, laughing and joking with his customers as he served them. She smiled in greeting as she made her way to stand behind the counter with him.

'Hey, Hermione,' greeted Fred with his usual cheeriness. 'What's crack-a-lackin'?'

Hermione grinned at his sadistically lame inquiry. 'Nothing much. Where's George?'

Fred frowned. 'What – I'm not good enough for you?' he teased as he handed another customer his receipt.

Hermione laughed. 'You know that's not true. I'm just curious.'

'Curious, schmurious,' retorted Fred in a childlike manner. But then he gave her a sidelong glance and grinned. 'He's in the back. Watch yourself. He's horny.'

'Eeurgh,' shuddered Hermione as she pushed herself off the counter and began making her way to the back. 'You're disgusting.'

'Yet we both know you'll be back for more next Hogsmeade trip.'

Hermione smiled because it was true. Visiting the store had become a habit of Hermione's lately. So had working at the store for free.

She found George in the storeroom half buried inside a cardboard box labelled 'Catapulting Caterpillars', green furry things hanging off his arms and clothes. Hermione rolled her eyes at his feeble attempts to pull the clinging things off.

'Aw, come on,' George was muttering as he tugged at the caterpillar on the sleeve of his t-shirt. 'I know I'm irresistible and all, but I strongly recommend you stick to your own species. What about Petey – you know, the hunky green creepy crawly I just plucked off my index finger? Don't even try to deny you don't have the hots for him – I saw you eying him like he was delicious maple leaf before. I'm sure you'd be more than happy once you've joined him in this lovely pink plastic box labelled 'Catapulting Caterpillars'. It's more than private and it has this really great, romantic interior. It's all pink. Come on, you'll love it way better than my sleeve.' George gave an almighty tug at the caterpillar and ripped it off his sleeve with such force Hermione was surprised it didn't come off in two pieces.

'There we are,' he murmured, satisfied, as he dropped the caterpillar into the pink box with miniscule air holes and clamped the lid shut. He looked up and saw Hermione leaning against the door frame, smirking.

'What you just witnessed does not leave this room,' he warned her seriously as he stood up hurriedly, a few caterpillars dropping off him in the process. He looked down, surprised as they hit the floor with a sickening plop.

'Oh, score!' he cried, leaning down to pick them up and drop them in their own pink boxes. 'Give us a hand – willya?'

Hermione helped George cage the caterpillars, getting them all packed within a few minutes.

'I don't even want to know what _those _things do,' she remarked when they'd shut the last box. 'I mean, if the name on the boxes doesn't imply enough animal cruelty…'

'They're in no harm, woman,' said George hurriedly. 'Relax.' Hermione eyed him suspiciously before sighing.

'Alright, fine.'

George grinned in his success of convincing Hermione not to press charges and steered her by the shoulders out into the store.

'Hello, children,' greeted Fred as they joined him at the counter. He eyed George's dishevelled clothing. 'Have a good shag?'

'Wonderful, thank you,' replied George nonchalantly and Hermione rolled her eyes.

'So what do I get to do today?' she asked eagerly, already beginning to bag one customers purchases as Fred handled the cash.

'You get to do nothing until you let us bloody well pay you,' growled George, pushing her away from the counter and taking her place bagging. Hermione scowled and squeezed herself between him and the counter again so that the customers handed _her _their purchases to place in bags.

'If you don't let me do _something _I'm telling Molly that you ever let me work with no pay!' she threatened and George laughed and stepped back, defeated.

'She's in a stubborn mood again today,' he told Fred, who grinned. 'I'll leave you to decide her fate, then _you_ can take the knee in the balls when she isn't satisfied with it.'

'Chicken,' muttered Hermione darkly as George disappeared into the back room again and she heard him chuckle.

'I heard that love,' he called. 'You've yet to learn the art of inconspicuousness.'

'_Okay!' _Fred cut in hastily, as Hermione's scowl deepened dangerously and her fingers instantly locked around her wand, and he put a hand on the small of her back to restrain her as he pulled her to the cash register.

'Why don't I put you in charge of this beauty today?' he asked, and Hermione got the feeling he was bribing her not to hex anyone in his store, especially since he used the voice parents used their babies, like 'here sweetie, give me that poisonous bullfrog and you can have this pretty rattle'. But the lure of the magnificent cash register was too powerful for Hermione to resist.

'Okay,' she agreed eagerly and stood in front of it, her eyes roaming over the buttons greedily.

Fred laughed.

'Merlin, you're weird,' he said. Hermione ignored him and he eventually wandered off to help a customer.

'So are you shagging one of them, or both?'

Hermione looked up, shocked at the owner of the bold, feminie voice; a heavily made-up blonde who looked around Hermione's age, eying an oblivious Fred hungrily. The girl looked back at Hermione and raised an arched eyebrow expectantly. She was ok-looking, but Hermione got the feeling she would be much prettier without the one centimetre thick pancake of make-up plastered across her face. Hermione stared at the girl as her hands continued their automatic routine of scanning and bagging the girl's purchases – was the chick _serious?_

'Uh, what would you say if I said none?' she asked, half disgusted by her personal query and half amused because she knew that _none _of the twins would ever be interested in the likes of her. The girl looked smug and surprised, arrogance etched into her every feature.

'I'd say you're an idiot, that's what.' Hermione continued to stare at her, all her amusement now gone.

'And what if I said both?' she asked again, her fingers now jabbing at the keys on the cash register. The girl's eyebrows shot into her hairline, she obviously did not believe Hermione.

'Slut.'

Hermione had a feeling it would be like that. As the cash register began its slow regurgitation of the receipt, Hermione held onto the girl's bag and leaned over the table in fake interest. She couldn't be mean to the cow of a witch – not because didn't want to, or because she wished for a speck-less conscience, but for the sake of Fred and George, and not depriving them of any customers.

'And if I said one?'

'Lucky bastard.'

Hermione gave a bitter, disgusted smirk as she handed the girl the bag and receipt.

'Have a nice day,' she said coldly but the girl didn't budge. She looked at Hermione with the face of a complete, stubborn bitch who always got what she wanted and sneered, 'So which are you? The lucky bastard, the idiot, or the slut?'

Hermione gritted her teeth and glared at the girl, mostly just buying time as she thought of a snappy come-back. She needed something that told the girl that the twins were out of bounds, but not because she was with either of them (Best friend's older brothers immense awkwardness, and besides Hermione couldn't imagine herself thinking of them as more than very funny friends, always there to cheer her up or entertain her when she needed it), and she had to use the meanest words she could think of while she was at it. Argh – the stress!

'I'm sorry,' cut in a cynical voice from behind the blonde and Hermione's glare instantly vanished to be replaced with astonishment as she was suddenly face to face with – you guessed it – Blaise Zabini. He didn't look at Hermione, instead turning his daunting dark eyes on the deserving girl in front of him as he continued. 'I'm really not comfortable with this conversation being held right here, in a public place an all, what with all the innocent little kids running around…' he drawled in his completely bored voice that made it evident that he really didn't give a crap about what went down in public places, 'Could you take it somewhere else, perhaps? Like, I dunno, a Playboy Mansion, maybe?'

Hermione couldn't help it. She guffawed loudly as Zabini continued to stare unblinkingly down at the blonde, who seemed to be rendered speechless. Eventually, the girl cussed loudly at him, thrusting her finger up into his face before clutching her bag of products close to her chest and storming off into the crowd. When Zabini wordlessly handed Hermione his products – the basic stuff; dung-bombs, a box of Magical Maladies and the like – she avoided his gaze, suddenly embarrassed that he'd witnessed that personal but subtle cat fight.

'You shouldn't have done that,' she mumbled indignantly, cheeks flaming, as she slipped the merchandise into the bright orange bags. 'I had it under control. I didn't need your help.'

Zabini scoffed lightly, and Hermione glared at him from beneath her lashes.

'Whoever said I did that for _you?'_ he asked, though his voice was neither harsh nor arrogant. 'I'm seriously concerned about the easily manipulated minds of these little kids, I mean, they're all the future of our world have – I wanna keep them clean.'

Again, Hermione couldn't help it as her pursed lips twisted upwards at the side into a reluctant, lop-sided grin. But she didn't want to give in so easily so she silently calculated his cost and waited for his receipt to noisily squeeze itself out of the clutches of the cash register, refusing to meet his piercing gaze. She pushed the receipt into the bag and gave the whole bundle to Zabini, not able to avoid his eye – was it _twinkling? – _as 

he took it from her. He was looking smug. Hermione's eyes narrowed stubbornly for a few seconds before her shoulders slumped and she sighed.

'Thanks,' she eventually mumbled reluctantly, being sure to make her lack of enthusiasm obvious in her tone.

'You're welcome,' Zabini smirked, and his eyes resembled shiny, twinkling stones more than ever now as he winked and disappeared into the crowd.

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**I'm sorry if I offended any blondes with the bitchy character, it's really nothing personal.**

**YAY! REJOICE MY FELLOW EARTHLINGS! MY STORY HAS A TITLE!! Roses, stammered thanks stained with blushes, and a very charming smile to: mae513 for the title that we all love and worship (I'm joking, I'm not that obsessed, though it IS a very beautiful title). **

**Oh, and I forgot to mention it last chapter but did ANYONE notice that at some point during their time together in the Prefects Bathroom, Hermione starting referring to Zabini as **_**Blaise? **_

**Alright, next chapter's on its way… I'm sorry this one took a while, and it's sad because I only have the usual excuses to offer; homework, flying time, and I've been reading a book (Breaking Dawn for all you Twilight fans). Forgive me?**

**Krazie-livin**


	5. Playing the Hero

**5 – Playing the Hero**

Hermione wondered absent-mindedly through the cheerily decorated corridors, running her fingers lightly over the cool stone wall as her mind pondered over the peacefulness of the exact moment. She could see the winter snow floating across the white sky through the arched windows high up on the walls, yet inside the castle was warm and toasty. Her casual Converse sneakers barely made any noise as she took light, prancing footsteps towards the Great Hall, where she'd be meeting every other Hogwarts student left in the castle for a friendly Christmas lunch.

Two days ago, Harry and Ron had left with the rest of the Weasley's back to the Burrow, and although Hermione had also been invited, and her parents had been begging to see her at _some _point on the holidays, Hermione had had to refuse because as Head Girl, she felt it was her duty to stay behind and spend Christmas with the Hogwarts students and teachers. And she wouldn't allow anyone else to sacrifice their own holiday to stay behind at Hogwarts with her. Hermione smiled to herself as she remembered Ginny's angry pout as she'd left to Hogsmeade Station after trying in vain to convince Hermione to let her stay with her.

She skipped around a corner and noticed that a little further down stood Ernie Macmillan – the Head Boy – standing straight whilst looking down at his shoes, which shuffled and tapped impatiently in an unsteady rhythm. No doubt Ernie had decided to stay behind at Hogwarts instead of going home to see his family for the same reason as Hermione, because he felt it was his duty. As she quietly advanced forward, she saw his eyes flicker upwards for a second before a small proud, eager smile stretched at his lips. He seemed to shiver in excitement, his shoulders hunching for a moment, before his head snapped up at the sound of her approaching footsteps. Hermione smiled as she drew close to him, though it faltered as she saw the greed that flashed through his eyes, and tainted his eager smile.

'Hello Hermione!' exclaimed Ernie happily and Hermione eyed him warily; he usually only sounded this jubilant when he'd managed to give a 'well-deserving' student a detention.

'Hi Ernie,' she replied, smiling a smile that, despite her suspicions, was full of Christmas spirit.

'How was your Christmas Morning?' he asked with honest and a little too anxious curiosity and Hermione's eyes narrowed a little.

'Fine, thanks,' she replied cautiously, with another polite but strained smile. 'I received some very beautiful presents.'

Ernie's eyes widened with a sudden joy. 'Did you like my one?' he asked eagerly and Hermione inwardly cringed as she remembered the very pink, heart-shaped box of dark chocolates that Ernie had wrapped in equally pink paper that she'd discovered at the top of her Christmas pile. Attached had been a card with a very enthusiastic message written in Ernie's neat hand, wishing 'Dearest' Hermione a very fulfilling Christmas in which she may receive many pleasant surprises and remember for the rest of her prosperous life.

'It was… unexpectedly nice of you Ernie,' Hermione replied, choosing her words carefully. She smiled again, as if in apology as she began move past the Hufflepuff. 'Well, I should be going now – I'm sure that lunch will be starting soon…'

But Ernie grabbed her arm softly and pulled her back to face him, a little too close for comfort. Hermione watched him with wide, terrified eyes as he continued to stare her intensely in the eyes, his hand stroking her arm, as if trying to seduce her.Hermione's stare now had the hint of a warning glare in it, but Ernie either mistook it for something else, or chose to ignore it completely, as his other hand now placed itself on Hermione's hip. What did he think he was doing? Hermione wondered if he would miss his balls if she were to kick them into extinction right now. But she kept her temper in check, knowing that as Head Girl, she really ought to have more respect for her partner in authority. So she cleared her throat quietly and began in a pointed voice, 'Uh, Ernie, you're – um –'

'Hermione,' he hushed her quickly, his voice covetous and keen. 'Do you know where we're standing?'

'Um, in the East Corridor?' she supplied lamely, not really sure if that's what he meant, but not knowing what else he _could _mean. Ernie smiled, almost pityingly, and Hermione became acutely aware of the hold his hands on her body becoming a little tighter as he gently, subconsciously pulled her forward a little in his enthusiasm. She dug her heels in the ground and subtly leaned away from him, trying to make it a little less obvious how much this intimacy felt so _wrong _to her.

'No,' Ernie shook his head, his smile resembling the kind of smile parents give their kids, like 'oh, look – she's so cute!'

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed in a less restrained glare.

'Do you know what lies above us this very moment?' asked Ernie again, his eyes flicking upwards like she'd seen him do when she'd first noticed him. This time, Hermione's gaze followed his and her eyes widened so much they hurt as they took in the horrible sight that lay above them. That dreadfully pretty garland of mistletoe that someone – probably that smug Professor Flitwick – had hung innocently above them seemed to be teasing Hermione, shamelessly mocking her as she stared up at it unblinkingly, her whole body going numb as Ernie's intentions suddenly became very, _very _clear.

'Mistletoe,' she breathed weakly, her knees shaking beneath her with heavy dread. Oh, god no…

Ernie grinned from ear to ear as he took a step closer to Hermione, closing the already claustrophobically small space between them.

'A beautiful Christmas tradition…' he murmured as his eyes roved over Hermione's face almost hungrily. Hermione gulped and her mouth tasted bitter. Ernie was now dipping his head excruciatingly slowly, and Hermione knew there was no way she could ever get out of this without hurting Ernie's feelings. But then she decided she didn't care about Ernie's damn feelings.

Craning her neck and digging her heels firmly into the ground so that she could angle her body obstinately away from Ernie's lips, Hermione glared firmly at Ernie, though it was wasted as his eyes were firmly shut.

'Ernie,' she protested edgily, squirming in his tight hold. He didn't seem to hear so she repeated herself, louder this time, and more impatient, 'Ernie, _please.' _

She saw Ernie's lips quirk at the edges into a smug smile. He chuckled, but did not open his eyes, now looming so close to Hermione's that she could see the small vibrations of his eyes moving beneath their lids.

'Patience, Hermione,' he murmured softly, the hand on her hip sliding onto her lower back – he thought she _wanted _this! Hermione's throat had gone dry and her mouth twisted into a disgusted frown as she surveyed the boy with the overly-puckered lips in front of her, knowing that the mere mention of his name would be an incredible turn-off for the rest of her life. Well, best get this over and done with. Was she really so vain that she couldn't give Ernie just _one small kiss? _Even on Christmas day, under mistletoe? Surely she could swallow her pride and just let him do his thing for one or two seconds! Hermione took a deep breath, refusing to let it back out as she continued to glare at Ernie's pale, unappealing lips, only a breath away from hers now. Just because she wasn't terminating his manly parts didn't mean she was going to enjoy this.

'Aw – Merlin, Macmillan. In the middle of the corridor? That's tacky.'

Hermione turned a bright red as her head snapped around to see Zabini standing, totally comfortable, in the centre of the corridor. She didn't have more than a second to ponder why Zabini was still at Hogwarts before Ernie's hands distractedly loosened around Hermione – refusing to let her go just yet – and she sagged away from his body, her heart pounding in relief. Ernie's head had shot away from Hermione's as soon as Zabini's loud, flat voice had reached them and Hermione's lone breath had whooshed out of her instantly at the liberation of not feeling Ernie's hot breath sticking to her cheeks.

'Can I help you?' he was asking Blaise now, his voice surprisingly cold. Blaise raised an eyebrow.

'Sure can,' he quipped. 'You can do me a favour and spare my eyes. They're real sensitive, mate.'

Hermione bit her lip to stop from laughing at Ernie's outraged expression. Ernie's arms dropped from around Hermione as he faced Blaise angrily. Hermione beamed at him gratefully from behind Ernie's back and made sure to jump out from a metre radius of the mistletoe. _Free!_ Who would have thought she'd one day be grateful to a _Slytherin? _Blaise did not return the smile, though Hermione was sure he'd seen it, and she realised that was a good thing; Ernie would probably blow a blood vessel if he saw.

'I'll be sure to take that into account, Zabini,' hissed Ernie. 'Aren't you expected in the Great Hall about now?'

The ghost of a dry smirk appeared on Blaise's lips.

'Aren't _you?' _

Ernie turned puce.

'I'm Head Boy, Zabini,' he said, as if he'd run out of any other good comebacks.

'Yeah, and I'm Peeves' messenger,' said Blaise jadedly, and Hermione realized he was serious as he continued. 'He told me to tell you he's looking for you. Said something about revenge lining up for you, and he had all kind of crap in his arms… looked like he was setting some prank up or something for you or something, I don't know, I didn't really stick around long. I mean, I dunno, what – were you stupid enough to rat him out to Filch or something?'

Ernie had gone ghostly pale. He ignored Blaise's last question and asked, '_What _did he have in his hands?'

'I don't know. I told you, I wasn't really paying attention. But if I were you, I wouldn't stick around to find out.'

Hermione thought Ernie was going to punch Blaise in the nose but instead, he went deathly pale, his hands clenched into tight fists and his gaze turned suddenly distant and fearful. He turned swiftly to Hermione, who struggled to swap her amused expression for a serious one.

'I'm sorry,' he apologised fervently, as if it physically hurt him to leave now. 'Maybe another time…' he seemed to be talking – comforting – himself now as he turned and sped off towards the Great Hall, with one last fleeting look of hatred towards Zabini, to the safety of being in the same room as McGonagall. No doubt he would become her second shadow for the next few days, sticking to her like quivering, nervous glue.

Hermione watched Ernie go, her heart feeling light and strangely drunk with happiness, she just couldn't believe her luck! She giggled. She felt like spinning in endless circle with her arms thrust out to her sides and her hair spinning around her head in a chocolate coloured halo of joy. She turned to thank Zabini but he was already half way down the corridor, sauntering along as if he had all the time in the world and hated it with a bitter umbrage. She watched him, surprised for a few moments. Surprised that he'd actually gone to the trouble of stepping out of his obvious comfort zone and _speaking, _and then even more surprised that he was just walking off without a word to her afterwards.

Some hero he was.

But then again, what did she expect from a Slytherin? Besides, Zabini wasn't someone who she should want to stick around.

Regardless, Hermione got that by now familiar desire to know how Zabini's mind worked, how his thoughts came to conclusions, what triggered certain thoughts and what thoughts triggered certain reactions…

Pushing away the almost overwhelming desire, she forced herself to beam again and made her way in the light, bouncy amble that she'd created during the past lone, cheerful days of pure Christmas spirit, to reach Zabini. In the back of her mind, she wondered how the hell he got so far so fast and as she scuttled up to him, she also noticed once again his almost inhuman grace.

'Aw, come on!' Hermione called, unable to keep her previous glee of being spared of Ernie's 'pleasant surprise' out of her voice as she hurried to fall into step beside Zabini. He didn't say anything, and didn't slow down.

'You're not really just going to leave me are you? What if Ernie comes back? I think I'd feel much safer knowing you were there to save me from the perilous doom,' she was teasing him now as she watched his blank face, staring forward as if she didn't exist. Zabini shot her an irritated side-ways glance and Hermione grinned at the victory of being acknowledged.

'Granger what are you talking about?' he asked in his bored tone that, in any other circumstances would have annoyed the crap out of Hermione, but today just fuelled her sense of celebration. She'd achieved a lot today. Somehow gotten out of a kiss with Ernie McMillan, and heard Blaise Zabini say words when he could have very easily walked right by, as Hermione was sure he usually would have done. In her state of ignorant bliss, she did not stop to think why Zabini was acting so out of character. Zabini looked at her again, and Hermione thought she heard him sigh as he saw her unaffected, maybe even stronger smile in return.

'I was just being a good Hogwarts citizen and warning our Head Boy of the potential danger he was in,' he continued nonchalantly. 'Who would've have thought he'd be in the process of planting one on you when I walked by? By the way, you guys make a good couple.' He must have been banking on that last remark to annoy her and get her to leave, but Hermione saw right through his plan and decided that annoying him was just too _fun _to leave.

'You know, usually, you'd have to get you're doodle-berries amputated after a comment like that,' Hermione informed him in a happy-go-lucky manner, two of her light skips matching every one of his purposeful, silent strides. 'But not today. I mean, doing that to you today would be like Loise Lane doing it to Superman after he's just swooped her into his arms when she was falling from the roof of an über-tall building! – Wait you do know who Superman is, right?'

Suddenly, Zabini stopped walking and faced Hermione with the hint of incredulousness in his expression, and eyebrow raised.

'Granger,' he said in a tired voice as she stopped too, still smiling innocently in a way that she knew annoyed him even more. 'Is this your way of telling me you have some weird, secret crush on me or something?'

Hermione's mind went blank as her face contorted in disgust.

'Ew, _no!' _she retorted, as if the very idea was preposterous, as it was. How did he come to _that _conclusion? Zabini nodded, easily accepting her rejection, and began walking again. Hermione followed. 'What I'm _trying _to say is that I can't kick you in the nuts today because..' she trailed off dramatically and stopped walking, a mocking smile playing at her lips as Zabini paused to glance over his shoulder at her warily.

'… You're my _hero!' _She cooed, clasping her hands at her heart and smiling up at him admiringly like they did in cartoons. Zabini was not impressed. Hermione laughed as he frowned at her and then turned to keep walking.

'Granger, for an organised, top-of-class Head Girl, you're strangely weird,' he remarked as Hermione fell into step beside him again, but he did not grease her off or tell her to get lost so she laughed again, walking beside him with ease. It was strange that she felt so comfortable around Zabini, and that logical part of her mind was yelling at her to abruptly say good-bye and run to the Great Hall. Damn Slytherin was making her late, too. 'And I wasn't playing the hero, so you can go back to admiring Superman.'

Hermione raised an eyebrow, like she'd seen him do so many times.

'Fine. _You _can stick to your story of willinglygoing out of your way to bring yourself out of the shadows and _falsely _warn Ernie Macmillan – a _Hufflepuff_, and _goody-goody-two-shoes_ _Head Boy- _that Peeves was going commit some horrible crime against him just for the fun of it all, and I won't burst your bubble on that one, but intentionally or unintentionally – whatever, it doesn't make a difference to me – you saved me from the horrors of Ernie's lips and being pressed up against his skinny little figure, and for that, I thank you.' She stopped talking to glance at the Slytherin's expression and smiled cheekily as she noted that it was now one of uninterested irritation. He glanced at her again, probably wondering what he'd done so right to make her stop talking, and her smile grew to one of cheeky admiration.

'_My hero,' _she swooned again and Zabini rolled his eyes before spinning to face Hermione. She froze as he towered over her, noticing for the first time how close they stood together, definitely not the distance a Gryffindor _should _stand apart from a Slytherin. His dark eyes flashed in subtle irritation and her heart thudded as she realized that maybe she'd crossed the line. How could she have forgotten or even overridden the undeniable fact that the boy before her was a _Slytherin? _How had she deluded herself into thinking teasing him playfully and even small things like walking next to him – even _smiling _at him – was ok? _Was she crazy? _

'Merlin Granger,' started Zabini, his usually smooth voice, always spoken in a volume that was just a little too soft to be an average 'inside voice', suddenly loud enough to make Hermione cringe at the sudden difference, though he could only have been speaking a little louder than she was. 'Why is it that you have to be so thorough? You are _annoying. _What – a simple 'thank you' just doesn't cut it anymore?'

For some reason, Zabini's harsh words – spoken in a voice that only portrayed the slightest of irritation – didn't scare Hermione. And it wasn't because she was trying to be mucho either. She honestly did not feel threatened by him. Maybe it was because he didn't physically hurt her, or because the expression she recognised on his face didn't betray any huge emotions like anger or hatred, just irritation, shown clearly in his black swirling eyes and the stiff position of his jaw, with his lower lip jutting out slightly from the upper and also the subtle slant of his eyebrows. Or maybe it was the way that as soon as he was finished yelling at her, his shoulders sagged and he stared at Hermione, as if waiting for her to bite back with more mockery.

She smiled, still cheekily, but decided she'd pushed Zabini far enough.

'Thank you,' she told him whole-heartedly, smiling sweetly, thinking that if a simple thank you was what he wanted, well then _there. _ Zabini just stared at her for a few moments, eyes narrowed warily, before he rolled his eyes again and then kept walking. She continued to skip along beside him, her former anxiousness now gone but for the annoying nag at the back of her brain that kept reminding her that she was _fraternising with the enemy. _But Hermione wondered whether Zabini really was an enemy after all. Sure, he was in the Slytherin House, but he was definitely not a Slytherin, as far as Hermione could tell. Sure, he was dark, mysterious and sported that annoying Slytherin smirk, but – if it was possible – he did not use those talents in an evil, conniving way. Before she'd lent Zabini that book, the way he'd stared darkly at everyone had seemed so _daunting _and scary it seemed really ridiculous to her now. Before, she'd always pictured him – on the rare occasions she ever pictured him at all – as a silent, smooth Slytherin with dark thoughts which lead to him being incredibly anti-social and although rather good-looking – in a dark, mysterious way – she always thought of him as merciless, heartless and cold-blooded, much to the point that his real, rather normal body temperature had surprised the hell out of her when he'd shaken her hand. Now it was like her canvas had been dropped in toxic waste – disintegrating everything she'd had painted on there, and now she had to start all over again, with completely different paint because she'd used all her old paint on the original painting.

But Hermione decided not to let her mind get clouded by those thoughts. Instead, she smiled smugly up at Zabini, whom she knew was watching her out of his peripheral vision.

'So you admit it – you interrupted Ernie and me on purpose?'

Zabini's expression was one of bitter resentment – well the little expression she could see was.

'Only for the benefit of my own eyes.'

Hermione beamed.

'That's good enough for me.'

They arrived at the corner of the hallways, where it turned into the foyer outside the Great Hall. Hermione smiled a little as Zabini stopped and leant casually against the wall, obviously not planning on moving anytime soon, despite the fact that the pair of them were already late. That other part of Hermione's brain – the logical part that objected greatly about being with Zabini in the first place – furiously shouted the question as to why her lateness didn't bother her. Hermione didn't have an answer.

'Ladies first?' Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow raised and Zabini nodded mutely. It seemed natural that they were so alert to the fact that they could not be seen together; that they could not enter the Great Hall together. Hermione smiled gently again, raising a hand in silent farewell, receiving nothing but the slight acknowledgement in his eyes in return, and hurried to join her teachers and fellow students for Christmas lunch, her heart still light with the not yet absorbed fact that she'd just narrowly escaped a not-so pleasant snog with Ernie Macmillan.

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**Alright, did anyone notice the 'Blaise' calling **_**this **_**time? It wasn't as obvious this chapter, so you have to have really been paying attention,**

**So, like, love, hate, getting a bit boring, can't wait for more?**

**Tell me everything!**

**Krazie-livin**

**P.S. And to everyone who's read 'The Result of Purple Tennis Balls' also by yours truly, I do know there's a chapter in there also called 'Playing the Hero' in case anyone actually remembers that teeny tiny fact and was going to bully me about it in a review (:P), I just wanted to say that even though it IS a bit tacky, lol, I thought it was a perfect title for the chapter… so don't be mean.**


	6. Blame Her Upbringing

**6 – Blame Her Upbringing**

Hermione sat at her usual window, which she was glad to see someone had replaced the formerly shattered pane of. Upon the arrival of spring, there were many adolescents who had taken to studying outside by the lake, or lounging in stretched out positions underneath the long branches of the beach tree, and Hermione really should have been joining them, except, she'd been distracted.

She liked to pretend that she didn't know why Blaise Zabini had caught her attention so suddenly. It had been about one and a half months since she'd ever spoken to him, yet she was constantly thinking of him, much to her chagrin. He just intrigued her curiosity a bit too much. The problem was, the boy was just so darn _different. _

Like right now, instead of enjoying the gentle sunlight outside like every other normal human being at Hogwarts, Zabini was sitting a few tables away from her, right in the shaded corner, slumping lightly in his chair. She'd been just about to finish up the last chapter of her novel before going down to meet Ginny for a swim in the lake when he'd sauntered into the library, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his head ducked a little so that a few strands of hair fell over his eyes. As usual, he was alone. And that was what had sparked the flood of questions _this _time.

Hermione had leant back in her chair, hauling her knees up and peering at him over her book, her lips scrunching to the corner in a thoughtful pout.

Why didn't he ever go anywhere with _other people? _Why was he always alone? Did he prefer it that way? Or was he some social Slytherin reject or something? Did he honestly have no friends?

These plagues of questions often managed to infect Hermione mind, her curiosity fuelling them annoyingly. And then for a little while the questions would cease, only to be replaced by endless replays of the few encounters Hermione had had with Zabini, accompanied with every observation she'd ever made about him, trying to piece nothing with nothing to get an answer to her universal question: _what was up with Zabini? _

She'd remember how easy she seemed to be able to talk to him, though it was mostly just a one-way conversation. But he never told her he'd rather be alone, never told her to get lost. He was never a jerk.

So then why didn't he have any _friends? _

No, that wasn't true. Zabini had friends. There had been numerous times where Hermione had seen another Slytherin interact with Zabini briefly, whether it be to comment something merrily or just to clasp him momentarily on the shoulder or bump knuckles in greeting. They all seemed to like him well enough, so maybe it was the fact that Zabini did not seem to like any one of _them _that stopped them from instituting further conversation or sitting with him in classes.

Yes, that was it. Zabini had friends, but he was no friend to them.

Naturally, when the observations ran dry, the questions bullied their way back like a tsunami: But then, who the hell would be so stupid as to reject social interaction? Surely, even Zabini craved for a good friend.

Or did he think he was just too cool for other people? He didn't seem like the arrogant type, but then again, all this uncertainty just went to prove how little she knew anyway. But what if she was completely wrong and he did not talk because people avoided him? Nah… People avoided him because he didn't talk.

Or was it merely because he seemed so daunting and dark?

Minutes passed in which Hermione stared at the pages of her book without seeing them, and then, annoyed with the knowledge that she'd never actually get _answers _to her questions, she did what always did.

She left in a huff.

Frowning to herself, she closed her book a little too firmly and turned her back on an oblivious Zabini, marching through the doors to meet Ginny, so that she could possibly distract her mind and get away from all those freaking thoughts. They just came out of nowhere! It was infuriating! She couldn't even glimpse him without a few questions wheedling their way into her mind.

Stupid Slytherin.

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Hermione's hand scribbled furiously on her parchment of notes as she continued to watch the screen before her.

Yes, the Wizards had discovered the beauty of the muggle DVD and DVD player. Wonderful things.

So they were watching an informative movie based on the interesting life of Potions Master Gerald Botsworthy in Potions class, that although wasn't _entirely _factual, was quite entertaining in Slughorn's opinion, and would be a much easier way to remember certain information that _was _included in the movie for the seventh year's N.E.W.T.S.

And although Hermione thought it was an incredibly dim-witted idea to start watching some movie that wasn't even entirely _factual, _with limited time left to dedicate to revision before N.E.W.T.S were upon them, she was dedicatedly taking down notes that she no doubt already had on some other sheet of paper. She figured this would be the most educational thing to do, and that the only way she was going to get anything worthwhile out of this waste of a lesson was to be independent and take advantage of what little learning she was doing.

Suddenly, the scene in the movie changed to show Professor Botsworthy in his Potions lab, muttering softly to himself as he brewed what would come to be the cure for Serpentinial Influenza. Suddenly, the door behind him flew open and a pretty lady with dark curls appeared in the doorway, watching him from behind heavy lidded eyes.

This woman had been present throughout the movie, often flirting with Botsworth and him back at her. She looked flustered now and her minx coat was slipping of her shoulders as she watched him, her chest heaving with uneven breaths. She looked like she'd just run the Great Wall of China for Pete's sake, but quite instantaneously, Botsworth left his magical break through to attend to her in very passionate ways.

Surely they weren't allowed to watch this kind of thing in class! Hermione was almost certain that the movie was not a porno one, so would cut off before any major skin was revealed, but honestly, this was just plain _embarrassing. _

_This _was how she was expected to spend her revision lessons? Many girls were giggling immaturely, and many of the boys were smirking pervertedly. Slughorn, on the other hand, looked rather uncomfortable, making it quite clear he hadn't watched the movie before hand to check for any inappropriate scenes.

Hermione's collar had grown a bit too warm and her hand had halted in its flight from east to west across her paper. After all, she wouldn't be examined on _this. _

The scene eventually switched to a more PG-rated one, but Hermione had had enough. What kind of lesson _was _this? It was plain barbaric! She swept her things into her bag and marched up to Slughorn, who sat at his desk, smiling pleasantly to himself now that the two snogging adults had left the screen, with the flashing light from the television set lighting up his face almost spookily.

Hermione's jaw was firm and her eyes narrowed in irritation as she approached him. This was plain _stupid. _It was unacceptable.

She did _not _come to Potions class that day to watch Gerald Botsworthy abandon his miraculous discovery to canoodle with some faint-hearted, lusting woman.

'Professor Slughorn,' she hissed quietly and the bald man jumped a bit before twisting in his far too small chair, his eyes struggling to focus on Hermione's face, drowned in the darkness of the dungeons apart from the bright glow that emitted from the television screen.

'Is there a problem, Hermione dear?' he asked in a whisper, his pudgy brow furrowing.

'Yes sir,' Hermione answered, making her voice sound regretful. 'I'm afraid I don't feel so well, could I go to the infirmary?'

Slughorn eyed Hermione sympathetically. 'Yes, you are looking a bit tense and stiff around the edges… a bit flushed, too. Off you go, then. Are you sure you'll be alright on your own?'

Hermione smiled appreciatively, resisting the almost overpowering urge to whack this surprisingly idiotic, hairless man for giving them such an un-worthwhile lesson so that _Hermione Granger _had to resort to wagging. There were just so many other – much more educational – things Hermione could be doing right now!

'Yes sir,' she replied with a small smile that she might have given him if she really were sick. 'Thank you.'

Slughorn smiled pitifully again and Hermione turned and hurried out of the room, ignoring the jealous glares many students aimed her way. She opened the door as little as she could as she slipped out, knowing the flood of light that would stream into the dungeons would make every head that wasn't already turned her way snap on to her back so fast they'd get whiplash.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and adrenaline pumped through her veins at the streak of rebelliousness that helped her to skip class. She couldn't help but smile as she hurried down the hallway, slinging her bag over her shoulder and making her way to the library to do some _real _revision.

Someone tutted disapprovingly behind her.

'Such a rebel, Granger.'

Hermione winced and turned around slowly. Of course, Zabini had exited the classroom unheard and unnoticed.

'Hello Zabini.'

Zabini nodded, smirking a little.

'Granger.'

He ambled up to her in the manner of someone without a care in the world, the dark pools in his irises deep and mystifying as ever. He smirked again, lifting his head slightly so that he could look down at her almost smugly. 'Looks like you're a bit lost there. Hospital Wing's thataway,' he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

Hermione had been biting her lip as he spoke but now she let it free and eyed Zabini daringly, as if challenging him to defy her as she said, 'I have better things to do than watch some actor suck face with another actor. Things that will actually _contribute _to whether I get an O or a D for my N.E.W.T.S.'

Zabini raised an eyebrow at her harsh words, but it dropped fairly quickly so that his face could once again resemble the perfect picture of 'couldn't care less'.

'Yeah, you did go a bit red in there. You know, I'd have thought all that lip-locking wasn't something a Head Girl who repeatedly busts couples in deserted classrooms on her rounds would get so disturbed by. But 

regardless of the reason, you really ought to set a better example for Hogwarts students,' he remarked and Hermione smiled in sarcastic appreciation before turning and continuing down her hallway. If all he was going to do was go on about her setting a better example as Head Girl and tease her about things he knew nothing about, she didn't need to be around him any longer, despite the butterflies that had mysteriously erupted in her stomach and the smile that had threatened to take over her entire face as soon as she'd heard her name fall out his mouth as smoothly as a silk ribbon. Just thinking about the immense happiness that had blossomed inside of Hermione as soon as she'd recognized his voice made her stomach feel queasy with unease. What the hell was going on with her?

She became aware of Zabini meandering along beside her, keeping up easily with her brisk pace, too casual and graceful to not make Hermione's mind go blank for a few fleeting moments. Maybe she really _did _need to visit Madame Pomfrey.

'Why aren't _you_ in there, then?' she asked challengingly as they walked.

Zabini shrugged. ''Cause I don't want to be.'

Was he really that stupid? Or maybe he didn't know she was Head Girl and could take points off his house with only a few very easy words. No, but he did know, he'd been teasing her about it just moments ago. But still, it didn't hurt…

'Are you stupid or something?' she asked incredulously, but not a muscle in Zabini's face twitched. 'I could easily turn you in or just take fifty points off Slytherin straight off – I mean, I'm Head –'

'Head Girl, I know,' Zabini sighed, cutting her off. 'Merlin Granger, _everyone _knows.' Then he looked down at her, his dark eyes almost playful now, making her bite the inside of her lip in some strange attempt to keep control of the butterflies that just gave birth to new butterflies in her stomach. Screw the cocoon cycle – these butterflies were _dangerous. _'Besides, would you really turn me in, Granger?' he asked, his voice dipping lowly so that it almost sounded seductive. The wings of Hermione's butterflies fluttered gently against the inside of her stomach, making her feel nauseous.

She decided to ignore both the darn insects and Zabini's strange question by eying him suspiciously and asking, 'Why are you _really _out here?'

Zabini half smiled, his lips quirking at one corner in amusement. 'I told you,' he said, 'because I don't want to be in _there_. Plus, when I saw you leave, all red faced and embarrassed like some innocent five year old, I figured I wouldn't be alone.'

Again, Hermione ignored his jab at her innocence. It wasn't even her fault, it was her upbringing. And besides, she hadn't left because of that, she'd left because it was waste of valuable revision time. But his words confused her – since when did _Zabini _care about being lonely? – and she looked up at him from frowning eyes.

'So… you came out here because of _me?' _she stammered, thinking as she spoke. For a moment, Zabini looked surprised, going rigid and looking down at her with that twisted, half amused and half skeptical look on his face. Then he shrugged.

'Sure. I guess you could look at it that way – makes no difference to me.'

Hermione blushed and didn't say anything, knowing that somehow, she'd been made to look as if she _wanted _to spend this extra time with Zabini. After a while of looking down at her feet, taking fast, almost mechanical steps as her mind whirred about everything that was happening because of Zabini, which was really nothing, she heard his soft voice from beside her.

'So it's off to the library then?' he asked.

'I guess so,' replied Hermione imperturbably once she'd gotten over the initial shock of realizing that Zabini was still talking to her, and actually _following _her, too.

'So then you're open to other suggestions.'

It wasn't a question, but a statement, signifying that other suggestions were waiting to be made.

'And I suppose you have a few other suggestions?' She asked, again after a slight pause in which her mind had gone berserk at the fact that Zabini was possibly implying they go somewhere _together. _

'I do,' he admitted, his voice giving away no hint as to whether he was pulling her into some demented Slytherin trap in which Zabini would do something degrading towards her and then hurry back to the Slytherin Common Room to gloat and spread his story of how he'd managed to throw the good old veil over Hermione's eyes – only to embarrass the hell out of her.

'And they would be?' asked Hermione warily, looking up at his olive-skinned, expressionless face as they continued walking down the silent hallway.

'Anywhere but the library.'

When Hermione looked at him with pointed irritation, he almost smiled. Almost.

'Aw, come on, Granger – be a real rebel for once in your life,' he teased in response.

'I _am _being a real rebel!' cried Hermione, dancing on a fine line between disappointment and outrage that he didn't think so. 'I am _Head Girl _and I just skipped class for no good reason! I could get a _detention _for crying out loud!' And as all her worries cascaded back into her thoughts, they seemed to wash right out again. Because with the worries came again the confirmation that she _was _doing something wrong, and it felt damn _good. _As Hermione said her next words, her voice was light, laughing almost, although when she recalled the moment later she thought it sounded more hysterical, and she was beaming uncontrollably to herself, 'My perfect record could very well be _ruined!' _

To her surprise, Zabini smiled wryly and Hermione shut up abruptly, her laughter dying in her throat. This wasn't how their relationship was meant to be. Smiles were prohibited. Laughing was prohibited. She'd have to freaking prohibit _Zabini_ if this kept up. But Hermione knew she wouldn't be able to do that. For one – she didn't _want _to. He was a nice guy, for a Slytherin. And she liked being around him, she felt like she could be herself, because God knows she wasn't trying to impress him or anything. In fact, it was pretty much the opposite. She remembered how damn annoying him and his smirk had been when she'd first acknowledged him. But in the end, he'd returned her book on time, and not a page was torn. So she'd learned she could trust him, for small things at least. But still, _she could trust a Slytherin. _That had got to be a first.

Hermione glanced at him quickly from beneath her lashes. He was looking at the ground a few metres ahead of him as he walked, and as usual his hands – the real big ones – were tucked in the pocket of his grey school pants. As he walked, his shoulders rocked gently from side to side but other than that, there was no disturbance in his posture. His grace made it look almost like he was floating.

Slytherins did not float.

They marched.

Surely, this boy was not a true Slytherin, but some kind of imposter. He'd somehow tricked or bribed the Sorting Hat into letting him through to Slytherin boundaries. But what were his motives?...

'Why are you a Slytherin?'

Hermione felt the blood rush to colour her cheeks as she suddenly blurted out the curious words.

Zabini looked down at her skeptically and smirked.

'Yeah, it got to me too. Somehow, as a kid I'd always pictured myself in a yellow and blue tie, in all its Hufflepuff glory. Damn hat.'

Hermione narrowed her eyes to show her lack of appreciation for his sarcastic words but then looked at him earnestly.

'I'm serious,' she insisted.

'Why can't I be a Slytherin?' he retorted, answering her question with one of his own, which Hermione realized he did often.

'It's not that you _can't be one,' _she answered, choosing her words carefully as her cheeks flushed hotly, glad that he did not look at her but straight ahead. But she knew he was still listening intently. Why had she dug this hole for herself? It was plain humiliating, yet she didn't want to drop the conversation. 'It's just… you don't _seem _like the average Slytherin – no offence. I mean, in case that's something you'd take offence in, though I can't imagine why you'd take that as anything but a compliment…' she trailed off as she realized she was blabbering, another blush rushing to overlap the other. She tried again: 'I mean, it's not really a real question… I'm just saying that, well, if _I _were the Sorting Hat, _I _wouldn't have put you in Slytherin.'

Zabini didn't say anything and Hermione chewed her lip thoroughly, her hands wringing at her fingers in almost absent-minded anxiousness.

Suddenly, Zabini said gruffly, 'It's not a good story.'

Hermione's heart leapt in both relief, wonder and surprise. Relief; for Zabini didn't seem that visciously annoyed at her nosiness, as if he'd strike out at any second with harsh words, and both wonder and surprise because holy moly! – He was going to answer her! And _holy moly – _there actually _was _a story to tell!

Hermione struggled to keep her face clean of all the emotions running through her, but soon she realized she didn't have to because Zabini did not say anything more and soon her excitement evaporated, to be replaced by a dull disappointment, in both herself and Zabini's lack of verbal language. They walked in silence for about a minute, turning a corner but not knowing where they were headed. Hermione wondered whether it had been rude to say anything in the first place, since he was oblivious reluctant to answer her, if he was going to answer at all.

'I'm sorry,' she began, 'That was… not right. I shouldn't have asked you –'

'I asked.'

'Sorry?' Hermione's brisk gait halted for a second in shock before she forced her legs to keep going because Zabini was already one and a half paces ahead of her, his long legs carrying him swiftly yet with a strange elegance. Zabini did not pause to look back at her, but waited until she'd caught up to him before he answered.

'I asked the Sorting Hat…' he paused, but when he glanced at her side-ways and saw her confused expression, he half-smirked and explained, 'to put me in Slytherin, Granger.'

Hermione's eyebrows shot into her hairline as his words sunk in.

'What?' she spluttered when she found her voice. So Zabini _wasn't _destined to be a Slytherin? Had her silly theories really been right after all?

'Don't look so surprised. Potter did it didn't he? It's not that big of a deal.'

But it was. Before Harry, Hermione hadn't heard of the Sorting Hat taking anyone's preference into consideration before in all her reading, and she'd been certain that Harry's case had just been because of the 

very fine line that separated his potential ability from that of a very powerful Slytherin – like Voldemort for instance.

Could it be the same for Zabini?

'But then – you chose… _Slytherin,' _she pointed out dumbly and Zabini sounded almost bitter as he said, 'Yup.'

'_Why?' _

Zabini sighed.

'Merlin, Granger, you make it sound like I just murdered someone! – I chose Slytherin, so what?'

'So… Well, why would you want to be a _Slytherin?' _she asked, totally at a loss to see his side of the argument. He really was the strangest person she'd ever met.

'I _don't _want to be!'

It was the most emotion she'd ever heard in his voice and it stunned Hermione into silence. He was annoyed now, she could tell. He must have greatly regretted telling her anything. But then, _why_ would he tell her _anything? _

'I'm sorry,' she apologized quietly, hugging herself around the waist loosely as suddenly it became a whole lot colder. 'I shouldn't have said anything.'

Zabini shook his head, his expression casual though he did not meet her eyes.

'It was nothing. Don't worry about it.'

Hermione chewed at her lip as they continued on in silence. She wondered why Zabini didn't just make some pathetic excuse and then get the hell away from her – that's what _she'd _be doing in his position. But she guessed she'd just never understand his mind.

'You're worrying about it.'

Hermione felt her cheeks go pink, though not quite red, and her arms stayed loosely wrapped around her stomach.

'I know,' she admitted quietly. 'You regret telling me now, don't you?'

Zabini smirked. 'Sort of,' he said, but his tone was playful to Hermione's ears, which were used to having to strain to detect the slight differ in his tones.

Hermione smiled bitterly.

'Sorry.'

Zabini rolled his eyes.

'You're such a girl. Always turning things into more than they are.'

Hermione glared at him, but it was half-hearted and he knew it. He smirked again and the atmosphere was already much brighter.

But then some sort of resolve settled into Zabini's eyes and he looked at Hermione, his expression blank.

'Coming from a long line of Zabini's – Slytherin Zabini's – I couldn't risk not being one. I had to be a Slytherin.' Zabini's tone was serious, yet casual and full of acceptance for what he was saying, there was no bitterness.

Hermione nodded mutely, letting the information sink in, knowing that would be all the explanation she would get, and she'd been very lucky to get it. Hermione still had no idea why he was telling her this. Sure she had asked, but certainly this wasn't something he'd want to share with _her, _right?

Another silence fell between them, but this was not at all cold or awkward like the others. This one was almost companionable.

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**Ok, before anyone starts thinking – OOOH he's like Harry, he got to choose between Gryffindor and Slytherin, he's some great action hero who's going to save the world – not in this fanfic. All this means is that he really wanted to be a Slytherin, because it would be pretty much a disgrace to be anything else in his family. So don't get all carried away my beloved readers!**

**Oh, and this is NOT THE END of our couples little hallway meandering – the story will continue on from this point next chapter.**


	7. His Own Retarded, Perverted Medicine

**7 – His Own Retarded, Perverted Medicine**

Hermione glanced up at Zabini again and was surprised to see his lips were pressed together in a thoughtful, almost amused pout.

She couldn't help it. She stared.

Zabini noticed her bulging eyeballs and the expression on his face vanished, leaving his features impassive.

'What?' he asked, his soft voice a hum in the silence that had been established for a while now as they meandered along the corridors, neither one knowing exactly where they were going, and neither one of them caring. Hermione smiled guiltily.

'What were you thinking about? You actually looked amused.'

Zabini looked at her, his expression holding only the shadow of quizzicality.

'Nothing,' he said.

Hermione narrowed her eyes stubbornly but she was still smiling. 'Tell me,' she coaxed.

Zabini tried to stare her down, his dark eyes boring into her own coercingly but she would not back down and pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow expectantly. Zabini's shoulders sagged in defeat and he smirked sardonically and, shaking his head gently so that his hair flopped down into his eyes, made that noise he'd made back at the library, when she'd first spoken to him months ago; that half amused, half satisfied snort.

'If someone sees us, rumours are bound to fly.'

His words struck Hermione like a four tonne bus.

'Oh,' she said stupidly. She gritted her jaw for a brief second because she knew he was right, before letting it go slack again. Was he aware of how dangerous this was too? How strange and how unorthodox? How utterly _wrong? _

'You can go if you want,' she told him casually, but inside her stomach was churning, silently wishing that he _would _leave whilst another half of her desperately wanted him to stay – for reasons totally unfathomed.

Zabini turned unexpectedly to face Hermione, and her legs – which had slowed to a casual stroll a while ago – jerked to a stop. His lean body towered over her dauntingly, but she refused to be unsettled and looked up at him nonchalantly, waiting to see what happened.

'Scared, Granger?' drawled Zabini quietly with a raised eyebrow. 'Where's that fiery Gryffindor courage?'

'I'm not scared of rumours,' retorted Hermione, her voice gaining that steel of edge at the dig at her house. But then Zabini took a step forward, closer, still wearing that annoying Slytherin smirk – that many people thought damn sexy, though definitely _not _Hermione – and she got a sudden sense of dé ja vu, her mind whooshing back to that deserted hallway, with no one but Ernie Macmillan closing in on her…. But this was different. Hermione did not get that sickening lurch in her stomach as she stared up at Zabini's angular face, the feeling that made her want to run up to her dorm and have a long hot shower to get rid of its sticky, dirty feel, like a filthy secret. No, as Zabini stared down at her, his coal black eyes looking as if they were both forbidding and welcoming her to drown herself in the dark, liquid that swirled about inside them, the butterflies in her stomach turned searing hot and grew claws, tearing their way up to Hermione's heart, making it beat furiously as if trying to fight them off, but she couldn't bring herself to hate the feeling. It scared her, yeah, but it didn't make her feel sick. This was different.

'You _should_ be scared,' Zabini murmured in a low voice, and his foreboding words made her heart thump so loud she was sure those friendly people in Timbuktu could hear it too. His eyes were locked on Hermione's 

own large, brown ones and she wondered what he saw there. Fear, probably. But anticipation too, there was no denying Hermione longed for a fast forward button, or to skip a few pages in this book to find out what will happen next. Because somehow, she had a very large feeling that something _would _happen.

'Why?' she asked, and inwardly cringed when she heard her voice fall out of her mouth in a whisper. Zabini was so close now; she could feel the warmth radiating from his chest, and even the gentle flutter of his breath against her forehead as she stared up at him.

A small, almost smug smile played along Zabini lips. She wondered if they – the lips – were as firm as they looked, and her fingers suddenly longed to reach up and touch them. Holy moly, this guy even made her own _body _revolt against her! Hermione stubbornly ignored her hands, but then the hopeful tingling in her fingertips rushed up to her lips, and the image of Ernie's lips descending on her own under the mistletoe whisked its way back into her mind, except this time, instead of Ernie trying to plant one on her, it was _Zabini_.

Oh yeah, she needed to see Madame Pomfrey, alright.

'Aw come on, Granger,' Zabini mocked, his voice husky. 'Rumours about you and me would send your high status and rep as Head Girl down the toilet, right?'

But Zabini's words contradicted his actions as Hermione felt his calloused fingers whisper up her arm, to hover at her elbow.

Oh, dear.

Hermione's knees must have been replaced with jelly because they certainly weren't as strong as they used to be.

She gulped, having a very hard time thinking straight over the chaos of her frantically beating heart, keeping the freaky Zabini visions out her mind and keeping her fingers hanging loosely by her sides and not poking and prodding curiously at Zabini's lips. Oh yeah, and trying to contain the butterflies that kept trying to erupt out of her stomach, which she was sure they'd rip open with their hawk-like claws at any second.

'Things like hot, steamy, lust-driven passion-sessions in broom closets,' Zabini continued, his dark, alluring voice sending shivers up her spine. She became all too aware of his hand on her arm, and his sweet breath on her face, and her body now pressed gently against his own muscled frame….

What a generous boy, going to the trouble of explaining this concept so thoroughly to Hermione's naïve mind. She wanted to knee him in the manly parts for his kind gesture. Did he know the kind of pictures he was bullying into Hermione's once innocent mind? Did he know that because of her very proper upbringing, he was causing about fifty litres of blood to crowd in Hermione's cheeks? Of course he knew. That son of a had eyes didn't he?

And yet, he did not stop.

'…The loss of virginities atop McGonagall's cold, hard desk…'

Hermione's eyes widened half in disgust and half in shock and disbelief.

But Zabini seemed to be unstoppable.

'And marriage straight out of school because of you being pregnant with little Blaise junior…' Zabini trailed off, but the picture he'd painted in Hermione's mind remained. A horrible nightmare in which Hermione hobbled off the red Hogwarts Express, her stomach bloated to the size of a contest winning melon with only a rail to help her down to the platform because everyone else avoided her, disgusted. Someone who had once been the highly successful, promising Head Girl had suddenly become some sort of outcast, a no-good junkie, destined to spend her days fat and seated in front of a cheap television set, maybe second hand. Her child – a 

mistake with Zabini – would be a delinquent because she would not be able to support it with a sufficient education – or even proper _meals _for that matter.

'Speechless, Granger?' Zabini said in an unusually smug voice; Hermione's ears didn't even have to search to hear the evident arrogance. Her eyes, which had been glazed over as she visualized what could be the result of this _fraternizing, _cleared and snapped up to glare murderously up at Zabini's highly smug face. He stepped away from her, his hand dropping from her elbow so that cool air whooshed into all the places their bodies had been touching – which was quite a few – and, snorting his amused/satisfied harrumph, said in a expressionless tone far different from the husky, quite seductive one from before, 'that's a first.'

He'd been joking. Mocking. Trying to get a rise out of her.

Freaking Slytherin.

Zabini turned after flashing Hermione an unexpected grin that seemed to banish all angry thoughts from her murderous mind, and continued down the hallway as if a few moments ago, he hadn't been trying to seduce Hermione with visions of them snogging away in a broom closet.

Anger flashed through her body like a lightning bolt and Hermione wasn't surprised when she whipped her wand out and muttered a spell so silently that Zabini did not hear it, and so didn't expect to snag his foot over some invisible solid mass and go sprawling across the floor like a child erupting out the end of a water slide.

She smirked coldly; her eyes narrowed as she approached Zabini collapsed on the floor, and passed him without a word, being careful not to walk too close in case he got a good eyeful up her skirt.

'That's the thanks I get for saving your Gryffindor butt from Macmillan?' Zabini grumbled loudly in a strangely care-free, almost cheerful voice as he hauled himself off the floor, apparently not even bruised.

Damn.

'No,' Hermione called back swiftly, still refusing to look back at him as she strode down the hallway briskly. 'That's the thanks you get for getting too cocky.'

'Huh,' came his dry reply, already just behind her. 'I'd hate to see what I get for playing the hero.'

A sudden, impulsive idea struck Hermione and, quite unlike her, she acted on it. She spun around, knowing Zabini was right behind her and held her ground as Zabini struggled to put on the brakes, stopping so close Hermione thought their noses would collide. She thought she heard Zabini mutter 'Whoa!' under his breath as he took a hasty – yet still darn graceful –step back, but couldn't be sure.

'Oh, I'm not so sure about _that_,' Hermione corrected in a tone much less aggressive yet much more intense than before. She looked at him from behind her thick lashes, smiling coyly and stepping closer.

He looked at her sceptically, thrown off by her change in demeanour and her apparent change of mood.

'Oh yeah?' he asked casually, and Hermione knew he was trying to ignore the way she'd pouted her full lips into a smirk that was anything but casual.

'Mmhmm…'

For a few seconds, Zabini eyed her warily, looking down at her suddenly playful expression impassively. Then he said in his bored manner, 'What makes you think that?'

Hermione bit her lip, pleased that he was falling into her trap. She fingered a lock of hair on her shoulder – all part of the show – and looked up at Zabini with her head cocked to the side, a flirtatious – she hoped – smile tainting her lips as she brought them dangerously close to his so that her breath was hot between their faces.

Her plan: give the cocky Slytherin a taste of his own retarded, perverted medicine. Turn the tables, Slytherin style.

'Well, you're a guy, right?' she asked with far from subtle suggestiveness. Maybe Hermione imagined it, but she could have sworn she saw the shadow of Zabini's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

'Last time I checked.'

She lifted her fingers and placed them feather light against Zabini's stomach and felt the muscles clench under her touch. Without warning, the sight of Zabini's bare chest flashed in Hermione's mind, glistening with clear water droplets, and it took all her strength to focus on the current task. There was something _seriously _wrong with her. She needed to end this, and fast. But not just yet.

'Yes, well, my two besties being guys, I've come to know what men appreciate most… in terms of thanks, I mean,' she told him slowly, trying her best to make her voice as alluring as his had been. She was being all out raunchy and flirtatious and everything she wasn't, but the cautious, almost dumb look that struggled beneath Zabini's blank face was well worth it. Her plan was definitely working. She was lying in what her words implied – she'd never once even _thought _about Harry or Ron in that way (Ok, maybe Ron, but that was way back in third year!), let alone snogged one of them – but her words only implied such things, and only someone who was thinking dirty would get the dirty meaning out of it, so technically, she wasn't lying. After all, she _did _know that in terms of thanks, Ron most appreciated a good slice of pie and maybe some unconditioned help with homework, and for Harry, the homework alone was good enough. But Zabini couldn't know that.

He was looking down at her with guarded eyes now, and Hermione wondered if she'd ever see those eyes filled with emotion, for once. She forced herself to press her body closer against Zabini's, searching for a more precise reaction to fuel her pride. She saw his jaw stiffen as no doubt, he gritted his teeth. She smiled again, her mouth still hovering too close to his. She felt so dirty, but he'd done it to her, so why not her to him? There was no reason. He bloody well deserved it.

'And that would be…?' Zabini asked in regard to her raunchy statement before. Hermione was impressed, this guy was _way _too good at keeping his cool. She looked up at him from behind hooded eyes and stood on her tip toes to bring her lips to the shell of his ear and the butterflies in her stomach swooped in satisfaction as she heard his breathing hitch.

'You're the guy,' she reminded him, finally starting to regret her actions as she realized how out of character and how uncomfortable she felt, yet how confident she sounded. 'Why don't you tell me?'

One, two seconds passed in which the only sound that could be heard was their breathing. Then Hermione laughed in Zabini's ear, her hands gliding up at push gently at his chest so that he stumbled away from her gloating figure.

Mischief danced in her eyes as she teased him, 'Too easy!'

Zabini swallowed again and then smirked, his expression a mixture of mock defeat and being impressed. Amused by the way she childishly skipped away from him, he lifted his hands in surrender.

'You win, Granger,' he told her, as if it meant nothing to him. As if it meant nothing that only seconds ago, she'd used her sexual prowess to reduce him to a speechless, tense lump of hormones. Her butterflies cheered and flew about her stomach in triumph.

'Damn _right!'_ she agreed as he drew up beside her. Who would have thought that after all the twists and turns of their time together today, he'd still stay to walk with her?

She wasn't too proud to admit, it made her feel special.

For a while, the two walked in silence, Hermione still basking in the glow of her triumph and Zabini, naturally, being quite the serene soul. Eventually, their hallway opened out into the courtyard and the two continued down a flight of stone steps to the garden below.

Then Hermione turned a corner and walked right into the view of Lavender Brown.

_Lavender Brown._

_Gossip Queen._

A thousand guilty thoughts popped into Hermione's mind – there was so much she needed to hide from her! One; she was wagging class, two; she was wagging with Blaise Zabini – _a Slytherin, _andthree; she had just been pressed up against him with her lips brushing against his ear in a far from friendly manner.

Dear god, she was in trouble. _They _were in trouble.

'Lavender!' squeaked Hermione, her whole body going numb as blood rushed to her head, making her feel dizzy with guilt and embarrassment. She dared not glance at Zabini, because that would just draw attention to the fact that she knew she was there with him and that she knew that it was bad.

'Hi, Hermione,' said Lavender coolly as she approached where Hermione stood rooted to the spot, and her eyes seemed to be the same size as normal, not the size of dinner plates as Hermione had expected them to enlarge to at the site of the unlikely couple.

'Wh-what bring you here?' Hermione stuttered out, not knowing what else to say as her heart thumped in anticipation for what was surely coming once it hit Lavender who was standing beside Hermione. She waited for her eyes to suddenly narrow, and then a smug smile to creep across her face and lastly for her to flip her long blonde plait over her shoulder and excuse herself with hardly contained excitement so that she could run to Pavarti and spread the news together that sure enough, Hermione was shagging Blaise Zabini of Slytherin House.

'Nothing much,' replied Lavender, and to Hermione's shock, didn't pause in front of her to signal that she had time to stand around and chatter, instead she brushed past her, but held Hermione's gaze as she continued, 'I have to visit the ladies room real quick, Pavarti says my eyeliner's screwed…'

Hermione nodded in mute surprise, wondering if she was dreaming. Could it be that Lavender didn't mind that Hermione was obviously fraternising with the enemy? No, she would mind. She mustn't have been able to recognise Zabini for his Slytherin-ness, maybe she even thought he was a Gryffindor! Wonderful! But Hermione still didn't risk a glance in Zabini's direction, in case this wasn't the case at all but that Lavender's eyeliner really _was _screwed and had dripped into her eyes, causing her temporary blindness, which would explain why she might not have spotted Zabini yet.

She could hardly breathe as she dumbly watched Lavender skip up the steps they'd just descended and then out of her sight, not even glancing back once. She certainly didn't _seem _like she had a juicy piece of gossip… But then again, was Lavender a master had keeping her emotions under check? Could it be that she _had _noticed, but didn't want to tip off Hermione that she knew, deciding to just spread the gossip behind her back??

Her frantic heart beats making an unwelcome come-back, Hermione spun around to face Zabini, her brows knitted with worry.

Only, he wasn't there.

Her eyes widened in surprise and for a moment, Hermione was speechless, thoughtless and motionless. Then she regained her senses and spun around, searching the garden and surrounding castle for any sight of the tall, dark-haired Slytherin.

She finally saw him emerge, standing in the courtyard beside a stone pillar.

She didn't need to see his face to understand.

Hermione smiled her farewell, lifting her hand to wave once before turning her back on what had become her Slytherin secret to spend the rest of the period alone since spending it together was just too risky.

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**Alright, so forgive me if there a spelling errors or grammatical mistakes or if something doesn't make sense since I'm in a bit of a hurry to get this up for you guys before I have to go out, so yeah…**

**Hope you enjoy it anyway!**

**Krazie-livin**

**p.s. thanks to everyone who's been reviewing!**


	8. Knowing Him Better

**8 – Knowing Him Better**

Hermione sat at her usual chair in the – you guessed it – library, curiously sneaking peeks at the by now familiar figure of – you guessed it – Blaise Zabini over the dusty cover of her – you guessed it – book.

Perhaps it had become a habit to peer at Zabini whenever he was in the same room – which was more often than not the library – as Hermione. Because she could certainly be found doing just that whenever she was in such a position. And more and more so in the past few weeks since she skipped class with him, because ever since that strange, almost life-altering and certainly moral-muddling day, Hermione found she was less afraid or reluctant to approach the Slytherin (of course, only when no one was around to rat them out) and had done so numerous times.

It was unnerving how easily their relationship – some kind of like/hate, shaky could-be-friendship – flowed. But she couldn't help it; she liked the guy – for all his impassive ways. And besides, he didn't seem to mind her all that terribly either, apart from the occasional bitter remark.

Today he was scanning a bookshelf across from Hermione with his back conveniently turned towards her and as usual, Hermione was thinking. About him.

As Hermione gradually got to know Zabini better so that he turned into less of a stranger and more of a – but not an exact – friend, her queries about his persona gradually faded and she came to accept; that was who Zabini was: quiet, somewhat daunting person who preferred not to speak his thoughts – and not because they weren't worth a good listen to, Hermione had learnt – and who was an expert in the art of sarcasm. So now as she watched him run a long, calloused finger across the spines of huge, moss green books, she didn't wonder why he was alone, or how he managed to keep his expression devoid of any emotion, but wondered simply what book he was looking for, and if it were for academic purposes or merely for private reading.

When Hermione had first caught Zabini reading for pleasure, she'd been so shocked Zabini had had to wave a hand in front of her face before her thoughts snapped back into composure. But when she looked at him now, it seemed so silly that she'd ever doubted his high level of intelligence.

There were so many things Hermione had learnt about Zabini, things that deep down, she'd already known, and things that she'd never once thought about wanting to change, like if he often tripped over innocent first years only to sneer down at them like they'd thrown _themselves _down at his feet when clearly, they were far too superior for the poor first year to even _dream _about kissing, like every other Slytherin did.

Again, it was unnerving and almost embarrassing to learn how prejudice she was and how much she stereotyped Slytherins and therefore Zabini, but even more intriguing to think about how much left she had to learn, how many of her morals she had left to rewrite.

And besides, that's what she liked about Zabini: he was different.

Zabini had gotten to the end of the shelf and – apparently still in search of a book – went to turn the corner into the next aisle when a girl with bright red hair walked around it and right into his chest. The girl – Hermione recognized her as a Slytherin – giggled as Zabini's hands went to her elbows to steady her. He said something and as much as Hermione's ears strained all she could hear was the soft, almost grizzly hum of his voice. The redhead giggled again in response, tossing her flaming hair over a shoulder flirtatiously. The mutant, dangerous butterflies that had lain dormant in Hermione's stomach suddenly burst to life, clawing and roaring at her insides and Hermione's eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a taut line.

Zabini's hand was still on the girl's elbow and Hermione had a huge urge to stomp over and chop it off with an axe. What was wrong with him? This was _Blaise Zabini! _He didn't _talk _to people! He didn't touch people! Hermione wondered if he was jinxed. Perhaps the redhead had slipped him some love potion.

The little minx said something else and Zabini smirked, his hand _finally _dropping from her elbow to slip into his pocket as he leant casually against the shelf – _as if he wanted to talk to her! _

Hermione's mouth dropped open in disgust as she watched the two housemates chattering away like little chattering chatterers. It was _sickening. _Surely, Zabini hadn't been conned by her good-looks into thinking she had the brains to be worth talking to!

The butterflies roared in agreement as Hermione continued to glower at the couple through the narrow slits that were her eyes. The girl was playing with a lock of her hair and looking up at him with an _obviously _flirty smile on her face and – there – _right there! _

Ah! – Hermione couldn't believe it! Zabini just _nodded _at her! In all the – what? _Five _months now, was it? – that Hermione had been associated with Zabini, not _once _had she ever seen that nod aimed at anyone but her.

Hermione's butterflies evolved into red-eyed, pawing bulls.

Eventually, the redhead catwalk-ed away with a much more pronounced sway to her hips but – as Hermione was strangely satisfied to notice – Zabini was paying no attention to her as he continued on around to the next aisle as if he hadn't been interrupted. Abandoning her book, Hermione followed, her bulls/butterflies tense with angry anticipation.

'Hello Zabini,' she greeted him coolly as she stalked into the next aisle and found him scanning the books on the shelf level with his head. Zabini glanced at her and that was all the greeting she could expect.

She leant against the shelves he was scanning, watching him casually out the corner of her eye.

'So…' she began, the bulls cowering back into fluttering, nervous butterflies who were suddenly unsure of why they'd lead Hermione here.

'Her name's Ellen Martin, she's in my Defence class.'

The bulls were back.

'Who said anything about _her?' _Hermione shot back, her eyes flashing in annoyance. Ellen Martin was such an innocent name. 'I don't even know who _she _is!' Hermione continued hotly, knowing that in a way, she was just digging herself into a bigger hole.

Zabini was smirking as he continued his search along the books, occasionally pulling one out and leafing through it before slipping it back onto the shelf, unsatisfied.

'The girl I was just talking to. Or didn't you notice?'

'Are you trying to make it renowned in all of Hogwarts that you're finally making yourself socially existent or something? Why should I care who you talk to?' She retorted with unnecessary force. She didn't want to admit that yes, she had noticed.

As she spoke, Hermione followed Zabini back to his desk, a book swinging in his big hand, and now he leant against the edge of the table, crossing his arms over his chest as he raised an eyebrow.

'Granger, if not to grill me about my social behavior then why are you here?' he asked in his expressionless tone. Hermione sneered at him for a while, crossing her own arms over her chest before she said in a tone that made it clear she'd given up on her pretence of not caring, 'I just don't get why out of all the people to make your social appearance to, you'd want to make it with _her!' _

'I wasn't _making a social appearance,' _said Zabini, sounding a little amused. 'She kind of bashed into me, Granger. It would have been rude not to say something.'

Hermione looked at him like he was bonkers, which she was sure he was.

'You're a Slytherin!' she cried, careful not to let her voice get too loud since they were still in the library. 'You _thrive _on rudeness!'

At this, Zabini actually laughed. It was a short laugh, more like a bark of amusement, but it was a laugh nonetheless and Hermione's mouth had snapped shut as if by instinct. She glowered at him, as if daring him to try and explain himself.

'Are you saying my talking to a fellow Slytherin offended you?'

Hermione's eyes widened because quite frankly, that _was _what she was saying. Only, when he put it that way, he made it sound like she was jealous or something. Plus, she didn't know _why _it offended her.

'No,' she denied. 'I just don't get why _her.'_

Zabini looked at her quizzically, obviously just as confused as Hermione was. What she was saying hardly applied anymore.

'She's not that bad,' he said. 'I mean, I talk to you, don't I?'

It was a joke, Hermione knew that much, but somehow, for some bizarre reason, it hurt. Her mouth opened and shut like a goldfish as she struggled to find something to say. Later, she supposed it caught her off-guard, what he said. It was an almost cruel reminder of how she wasn't allowed to speak to him, forbidden by no one, but forbidden by everyone, too. It was an embarrassing reminder of how even though she knew the humiliating, reputation-threatening consequences that would rise if their innocent bond – it could not be described as a friendship – was uncovered, she still spoke to him and still continued their relationship, wordlessly letting him know how much she actually did enjoy his company. Though Hermione was determined not to dwell on that part of her actions. Besides, it was also a reminder of all the questions that Zabini held, both about himself and their relationship.

Seconds ticked by, in which Zabini must have realized his words had hit some weird, unexpected soft spot because his hand came up to touch her arm and his smirk vanished, his features softening.

'Hey, I was just joking,' he murmured and Hermione forced herself to make a face, half-annoyed and half-amused by her own antics.

'I _know_,' she said, forcing a smile. 'I'm not stupid.'

'I'm well aware of that.'

Brown eyes met black, and Hermione felt her heart beat like a basketball against pavement. She'd tried hard to avoid any extra-friendly moments with Zabini, for fear of the ridiculous things her body did in response, ever since she'd had her turn at turning the tables in the corridor. Some nights she'd stay up, unable to sleep as she remembered the feelings. Again and again she'd felt his lean body against her own, and his breath on her forehead, and his hand on her hip, and his smirk as he gazed down at her. Again and again she'd experienced her franticly pounding heart, her breath coming out in whispers, her butterflies brushing against her insides. Again and again, she'd decided there was something seriously wrong with her.

Zabini's hand dropped from Hermione's arm but it was already too late. Her thoughts had abandoned her and she could barely stand straight.

'Siddown,' said Zabini, as if reading her giddy little mind, gesturing to the seat she had chosen to brace herself with as he pulled out the other for himself. When she didn't sit, he raised an eyebrow. 'There isn't anyone around. We can always say Slughorn's making you tutor me for Potions if anyone wants to ask questions.'

Hermione bit her lip. Indeed, she had been scanning the immediate area for anyone that could spot them and start a fire of dirty rumours about the Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Zabini pulled out the chair for her and she sank down eventually, muttering, 'You don't need a tutor,' systematically as she did. She thought she saw the corner of Zabini's mouth tug up in a smile but couldn't sure because just then, she saw something that put her body into shock.

She stared at Zabini's thin, pointed hand-writing scratched across the parchment lying on the desk and gasped. She looked up at him accusingly.

'It was _you?!' _

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_It had been almost two weeks since Hermione had skipped class with Zabini, but she still couldn't stop thinking about it. She couldn't stop thinking about _him. _She looked down at her parchment, not seeing it, and tapped her quill in an uneven beat against her desk as she remembered the way his dark eyes had seemed so intriguing as they'd stared down at her, as if even though they looked so cold, drowning in them would be like immersing herself in warm, thick, melted dark chocolate. She shivered._

'_Miss Granger, now I'm sure _you'll _know the answer to my question!' Slughorn beamed at her proudly, as if it were because of him she were the top student in Hogwarts, his hands clasped over his bulging stomach. Only, she _didn't_ know the answer to his question. She had no idea what he was talking about! How could this be happening to her? She _always _knew what a teacher was talking about! She _always_ knew the answer! _

_Hermione stared at Slughorn, whose beaming face now had a tinge of strain as seconds ticked by and it became clear Hermione didn't know the answer._

_Damn Slytherin! If it weren't for him, she'd be spurting out a detailed answer by now! _

_She was considering asking Slughorn to repeat the question when she noticed movement out the corner of her eye. She looked down at her parchment and her eyes widened as she watched words, written in black ink as if some invisible person with an invisible quill was leaning over her shoulder and scribbling them down, scrawled themselves across the top of her parchment._

Read this out, _it said, the words being written with enormous speed in a thin, pointed and scratchy hand. Hermione read it, trying not to make it obvious that she was reading off her paper as her voice shook with uncertainty, not knowing if the words she was reading were actually some crude answer that would land her a detention for sure._

_'Um, is it because the properties of the Caorx Flower are well-known for their cure of that specific type of animagus influenza?'_

_'Yes, yes!' cried Slughorn encouragingly and though Hermione was relieved to know she was safe for now, she still had no idea what his question had been. 'And what _are _the properties of the Caorx Flower? This one should be easy, seeing as I just told you all!' Slughorn made a guilty face as if he'd just committed some great crime. Some of the other students snickered._

_Hermione gulped but then calmed as she saw that once again, the answer to Slughorn's question was being hastily scribbled across her page in the sharp, spiky hand-writing. She read the answer out again and gave a small, shaky smile as Slughorn beamed proudly at her before continuing on with his lecture._

_Hermione turned to look at Harry and Ron to her right, but Ron was on the verge of a heavy sleep and Harry was quite obviously thinking about Ginny, judging by the glazed look his eyes held behind the glasses. Her mysterious helper had not been either of them. She scanned the crowd of students to try and catch anyone's eye, but everyone was either in a far away land or scribbling down notes._

_Who had helped her?_

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Zabini had.

Zabini had cast the spell to transfer his writing from his piece of parchment to Hermione's, all the way on the other side of the classroom. _Zabini _was her mysterious answerer.

'_You?' _she repeated weakly whilst Zabini looked at her skeptically.

'Me what?' he asked, eying her as if afraid she'd suddenly grab his quill from his hand and wave it in the air whilst doing an indigenous rain dance.

'_You_ gave me those answers that time in Potions!' she cried, unable to believe a Slytherin would ever do anything like that for her.

Zabini smirked as he finally got what she was going on about.

'Oh, that,' he said, still smirking. 'Yeah. I never thought I'd see the day when book-worm and know-it-all Granger actually _didn't _know that answer to a question.'

'Oh I got distracted,' Hermione said absent-mindedly, waving her hand dismissively as she fought to wrap her head around the fact that _Blaise Zabini _had played the hero in her life twice now.

'By _what?_' asked Zabini, his tone differing a smidgen to betray incredulousness.

'Y – I can't remember.' Hermione's eyes widened a little as she realized she'd managed to catch herself just in time. Had she not realized what she was going to say, she would have gone ahead and blurted out 'You' like some love-struck teenager unable to keep her thoughts off some hormonal boy.

Zabini watched her quizzically for a few moments, obviously seeing through her façade, but decided not to say anything.

'Thank you, anyway,' Hermione said, desperately trying to veer away from her slip-up. Zabini nodded.

They sat there for a few awkward seconds, Hermione urgently avoiding Zabini's gaze for reason's she wasn't quite sure of. Then she attempted a smile in his general direction (since his eyes were out-of-bounds and she couldn't risk looking at his face) and even though it came out as more of a grimace, Hermione decided it was good enough and leapt out her chair deftly.

'Well, bye!' she said quickly with faux cheerfulness before hurrying away to snatch her book off her table and exiting the library with hardly contained swiftness.

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**I think this chapter's actually a bit boring since there isn't any big Hermione/Blaise action, but i kind of had to put it in to show the progress of their relationship, and also to show Zabini's soft side… you know?**

**I don't know, I mean, if you think it's boring don't hold back in the reviews because I kind of agree, though not because I was slacking off or anything, I really did try to make this as interesting as can be.**

**Well, I hope you like the progress of their relationship, because that's what this chapter was about (plus the progress of Hermione's feelings) and DO NOT FEAR, more action is on its way!**

**Reviews are mucho appreciated!**

**krazie-livin**


	9. One Big NoNo

**9 – One Big No-No**

'Is that for the Potions essay?'

'You betcha,' Hermione replied without hesitation as she continued to leaf through the book she'd pulled out of the shelf.

'That's a good one,' said Zabini. 'It helped me a lot.'

Hermione looked up at the tall teenager who'd as usual, snuck up without her realizing, and smiled in appreciation, doing a quick scan of the deserted aisle in case someone was spying on them, ready to pull someone else's ear to their lips and spread the word that Granger and Zabini were meeting for secret love-sessions in the midst of the library shelves.

Finding no one, Hermione smiled at Zabini again. 'Awesome!' she said cheerfully, snapping the book close and tucking it under her arm. 'That sure saves time.'

'Mmh,' agreed Zabini in his usual blank tone as he silently followed her back to her table, both of them glancing around for any living, breathing soul out of what had become natural instinct.

Hermione placed her book on the table and then spun to face Zabini, a quizzical but playful expression on her face.

'So what do I owe the pleasure of your presence to?' she asked.

'Nothin',' replied Zabini with a shrug. 'Saw you looking for a book and thought I'd save you the time and effort. Got nothing better to do.'

'Really now? That makes me feel mighty special.' Hermione smiled sarcastically and leant against the wall behind her, propping a foot up against it. Zabini smirked.

'It should. Not many people are presented with such an honour.'

'Don't think I haven't noticed.'

'I'm not one to underestimate you, Granger, don't worry.'

Hermione grinned wryly, rolling her eyes.

'There's really no catch?' she asked mockingly. 'You really want to spend time with little old _moi_?_'_

When Zabini only stared at her condescendingly Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise.

'And to think there was a time where I thought I'd have to _pay _a Slytherin to spend time with the mudblood.'

Zabini raised an eyebrow disapprovingly at her language, stepping closer as he did in a friendly manner, his hands hidden inside the pockets of his pants. Then he smirked.

'You know, Galleons _are_ appreciated,' he told her seriously. 'And even the occasional sickle or knut won't go astray….'

Hermione narrowed her eyes. 'I wouldn't bet on it, B-Zabini.' She caught herself just in time. She'd almost called him by his first name, and although it didn't seem like such a big deal to Hermione anymore, considering he had actually become her friend, she was afraid of Zabini's reaction and decided to stick to last names. Besides, he still called her 'Granger', too.

She looked up and noticed Zabini was looking at something on her table, a quizzical expression ghosting angular features and his eyebrows slightly drawn down into an almost imaginary frown. She followed his gaze and grimaced when she saw the pink and white card sticking out from beneath her pile of parchment.

'What's that?' he asked, nodding towards the card before leaning forward to curiously pull it out from under the parchment.

'It's nothing,' she said hastily but realized she couldn't snatch it back without looking a whole lot suspicious, so she just clenched her hands gently by her side, an embarrassed flush beginning to heat her cheeks as she cringed back against the wall. Zabini paused and looked up at her, his head bowed down to look at the card so that he was looking at her from behind his dark lashes and a few strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes. He raised an eyebrow and Hermione blushed even more as her butterflies swooned drunkenly and her knees went weak as the hormonal part of her brain noted how damn sexy it looked. Stupid Slytherin.

A smirk appeared at the corner of Zabini's mouth as he obviously watched her cheeks go a wonderful shade of red. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him before she sighed and rolled her eyes – as if it were no big deal – and admitted, 'Ernie cornered me this morning and gave it to me. Said he couldn't catch me on Valentines day.'

Zabini looked surprised, for him.

'Really?' he asked, only sounding the slightest bit interested, though Hermione thought his casualness seemed a little strained. 'Did he try and plant one on you like last time?' Now his voice had a definite steeliness and Hermione eyed him, perplexed, for a moment, wondering why the change in demeanour.

Then she smirked and said lightly, 'Nah, I fled before he could think about doing anything. But anyway,' her tone shifted a more playful one, 'he hasn't tried anything since Christmas. I guess he's afraid you'll turn up with Peeves and a bucket of dungbombs at your side.'

Zabini didn't say anything, only nodding his head as he opened the card.

'Nooo,' protested Hermione, reaching forward to try and pluck the card from his hands but he batted her hands away, eventually holding them hostage in one of his own when she didn't give up, his eyes roving undisturbed down the page covered in Ernie's neat, cursive writing.

'Don't _read _it!' she moaned in panic, trying to yank her hands out of his, ignoring the warmth that spread from his hand all the way down to her toes. 'That's an obstruction of private property!' she hissed at him through gritted teeth.

Although she tugged and yanked and even jumped up and down a few times, she didn't seem to even distract Zabini's reading, and he stood completely still – utterly unaffected by her little bid for freedom – and continued to read the card. Eventually he looked up and smiled playfully.

Hermione froze, her previously animated hands going limp, hanging from their manacle as her mind went blank, all her thoughts scattering like rabbits.

This was often how her body reacted to Zabini's unexpected smiles, and even when the smile had faded and her thoughts crawled back into her mind, she _still _felt like there was a warm glow emanating all through her. She would have gone to see Madame Pomfrey about her condition, but she was embarrassed and wasn't really sure how to describe her symptoms, especially since Zabini seemed to be the cause for all of them.

'I didn't know Ernie wrote poetry,' said Zabini, sounding like he was finding it hard to keep his laughter from his voice, even though his shoulders were gently shaking with it.

Hermione glared at him.

'Shut up!' she snapped, making another lunge for the card, but he held it up high over his head, which was much further than Hermione could reach. Zabini was still grinning and Hermione found she was having trouble maintaining a steady breathing rhythm.

'No, I'm serious. This is quite touching poetry, Granger. You shouldn't be ashamed you have a potential stalker with such talents. You should be touched.'

Hermione swore at him and clutched at his rather strong arm, trying to tug it down. Zabini didn't even budge and she huffed loudly.

Zabini chuckled lightly. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

'I myself found that a blush was threatening to break out at his passionate words,' he continued, his voice rising so that he could be heard over Hermione huffs and cussing as she struggled to get the darn card from his hands. 'Especially this part;' Zabini flicked open the card with his thumb, still holding it above his head as he read aloud, ''For he was the male leader and she the female, was it fate? Perhaps their peers foresaw their relationship and the leadership their bait? They were destined for each other, meant for more than mates.''

'_Shut up!' _Hermione all but shrieked, clinging onto Zabini's arm, putting all her weight on it as she used it to propel herself into the air towards that accursed card. 'It's bad – enough – I had to read – it once,' she ground out between lunges as Zabini continued his amused chuckles at her efforts, refusing to even let his arm drop a centimetre, ' – without – having – to hear – _you _– repeat it – to me!'

She let her hand fall back to her side (not letting her mind dwell on the firmness of Zabini's arm, or the way his biceps bunched under her fingers as she clutched at him), and looked up at him, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting childishly. Zabini daringly raised an eyebrow.

'_Give it back!' _cried Hermione suddenly, wildly launching herself onto him, one hand going to his shoulder as she leapt up in a final attempt to reclaim her Valentine's Day card from the Slytherin's clutches.

Naturally, she failed.

Zabini stumbled back as she braced herself against him and when she fell back to the ground, card-less and defeated, she fell against his chest.

Zabini laughed once – it was never more than that – as he looked down at Hermione's pouting face. His smile shrunk until only his lop-sided smile/smirk (the one that caused the most drunkenness amongst her butterflies) remained and as their eyes met, Hermione realized the intimacy of their position.

Hermione's fingers were splayed against Blaise's chest, and one of his hands had flown to her waist to steady her as he'd stumbled back with her weight and quite frankly, their lips were _very _close. However, the position wasn't entirely intimate, since Blaise's left arm was still thrust up into the air, with the pink and white rectangular card dangling from his fingers. But both of them seemed to forget about that one arm, and Hermione's heart had falsely decided it would be more helpful in her throat. She could feel Blaise's heart beneath her fingers, but knew the fast, thudding beat had to be coming from the pulse in her fingers and not his heart, because it seemed her whole body was thudding incessantly. Blaise's eyes were smoldering Hermione, and she realized her lungs had failed her and she couldn't breathe. Also, there seemed to be something wrong with the joints in her knees, like someone had oiled them a bit too much and they were suddenly too slippery and unsteady to hold her up. Oh, and her nose, there was something happening to her nose, too. Every time she managed to suck in a breath, it sucked in this musky, vanilla and cinnamon scent that made her mind fuzzy. Like her own nose was trying to drug her.

All these things happening at once, it was no wonder Hermione totally ignored the panicked yell that sounded from outside, slightly muffled by the new window-pane. It would also explain why the next few seconds happened in a blur, in which Hermione had no idea what was happening and made no action or movement on her own.

Firstly, Blaise's eyes snapped from Hermione's to just over her shoulder, and then his eyebrows slanted and his eyes squinted slightly. And then not even a second later they cleared, also widening slightly and Hermione thought she heard him swear under his breath.

'_Dammit, _Holmes_ – not again_,' she thought she heard him mutter.

'Bl –' but Hermione didn't get to finish her question of 'what's wrong?' before Blaise's arm (the one previously holding the card, though out the corner of her eye Hermione saw it gently flutter to the ground as he dropped it) fell down to grip her waist tightly – and then she'd somehow spun around – and then there was this almighty crashing sound – and then Hermione was falling and she squeezed her eyes shut – and then she heard loud cries and the distinct tinkling of broken glass – and then she'd landed on the floor really _hard – _and then Blaise was on top of her – and then she realized what had happened.

There was an almost deafening silence in progress when Hermione dared to open her eyes. The first thing she saw was Blaise's face, and his dark, gemstone eyes, staring down at her, wide with what could have been concern. His body lay next to her, but he was leaning over her as if to shield her from something. As she looked around, she realized he'd been protecting her from the flying shards of glass that now lay scattered around them like deadly snowflakes. Finally making sense of Blaise's earlier comment, Hermione let loose a string of cursing aimed at Lachlan Holmes for never learning his goddamn lesson. Well, she wouldn't have patience for all his apologies _this _time around.

Hermione glared at a certain familiar toy bludger and surveyed all the glass destruction it had caused, getting up on her elbows to be able to scowl at it properly.

'You alright?' asked Blaise, his breath warm on Hermione's cheeks. She went blank for a few seconds as what she decided was the 'Blaise Reaction' took hold of her body and mind. She blinked.

'Yeah,' she murmured, still feeling a bit dazed. She gave him a small smile. 'I'm fine.' Then she gasped and her eyes widened dramatically.

'Ohmigod!' she squeaked, staring at where Blaise's neck met his shoulder. 'Holy sh – oh, Merlin – Blai – _you're bleeding!' _she said in a strangled voice and, despite knowing better, she reached up to touch where a trickle of dark red was slowly making its way over Blaise's collar bone to seep into his shirt collar, but then she realized that she was trying to touch _blood _ and well, _ew. _She pulled her hand back, chewing her lip as she stared at Blaise.

'Are you _ok?'_ she asked him, looking up at him with large, concerned eyes, totally forgetting that she was lying sprawled across the library floor with Blaise Zabini on top of her. Blaise watched her curiously for a second, as if trying to figure out why his bleeding bothered her so much, but then he smirked down at her, making Hermione's breath hitch in her throat.

'Yup,' he said and suddenly Hermione was upright, standing on her own two feet. Blaise's hands were on her waist, giving her some clue as to how she'd gotten so vertical.

A thought occurred to Hermione and she grinned up at Blaise as he watched her like he was afraid she was going to pass out on him or something.

'_My hero,' _she teased with a playfully sweet smile, mockingly reminding him of how many times he'd saved her now.

Blaise shot her another one of his lopsided smiles and suddenly everything around them was brighter, more cheerful. Hermione became acutely aware of Blaise's large hands resting on her waist, practically hugging her to him.

And then someone coughed.

And it wasn't Blaise.

Hermione's head snapped towards the noise, her face going scarlet as her huge eyes took in the small crowd of Hogwarts students that had gathered around the apparently embracing couple.

So much for keeping away rumours.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin sprung apart like two of the same magnets and Hermione averted her gaze away from the gaping crowd guiltily.

'Children, children!' came a muffled and impatient cry from somewhere within the throng of teenagers. 'Move to the side – let me – ow! – _move aside, I said!' _

Students were pushed to two sides as Madame Pince bullied her way to the disaster scene. When she saw Hermione standing amongst the shards of glass looking as guilty as a three year old caught with her hands in the cookie jar minutes before dinner time, Madame Pince's shoulders slumped and her head cocked to the side as she eyed her pitifully.

'Sweetling…' she sighed sympathetically and Hermione smiled weakly. Then she stared at Zabini for a while, looking thoroughly confused as he stared back at her, his posture composed and casual, as if he couldn't see what all the fuss was about.

'Well I can see it was Zabini who got it worse this time,' said Madame Pince to Hermione as she eyed them both curiously, looking for any serious cuts or bruises. 'I assume next time it will be Miss Granger, and then back to Zabini and so on so forth? Surely all this re-enactment can't have gone unplanned!' Madame Pomfrey teased. A few people from the crowd giggled. Hermione glared at them all.

Madame Pince sighed.

'Well, off you go then, the both of you. I'll warn Madame Pomfrey of your arrival. Be quick.' She ushered them towards the exit, and ripples of conversation slowly started to erupt through the crowd as they dispersed to their separate tables, eyeing the two should-be enemies reproachfully and with open distain and curiosity.

As Hermione and Zabini made their way to the Hospital Wing, not a word was spoken. Zabini, as usual, had nothing he thought he needed to say, but Hermione's excuse was that her mind was too occupied to strike up any awkward conversation.

Firstly, there goes their secret rumourless-ness status. And well, everything else basically flowed off that thought. Would Zabini care that they were revealed? How bad would the rumours be? Would he still want to see her, let alone talk to her, let alone _nod _at her? Should she talk to him? But would she be able to get through the next few days without him by her side to fight off the rumours? But if he _were _by her side, weren't the rumours just bound to get worse?

When they were ushered inside the Hospital Wing by an impatient Madame Pomfrey still without having done as much as even glanced at each other, Hermione had come to her decision. Blaise Zabini was a big no-no.

As Hermione was heavily scrutinized by Madame Pomfrey's sharp eyes, she watched Zabini out of the corner of her eye. He seemed more daunting than ever, his head bowed and his face so blank he looked like an expressionless statue. Hermione felt a sinking feeling in her stomach and she wished now more than ever that she knew what he was thinking.

Madame Pomfrey ushered them both into a small curtained room before bustling away and Hermione wandered awkwardly towards the small table in the corner, scooting her bum onto it and crossing her ankles as she stared at the ground.

'Did you leave my card there?' she asked Zabini suddenly. She didn't want to talk about what had just happened, and the fact that this was the last time they could converse together, which he probably knew too; she just wanted to make the best of the time they had left, however awkward that time may be.

Zabini, standing at the end of the bed, smirked lightly for a second and then nodded.

'Sorry,' he said.

'Oh, yeah, no problem,' said Hermione with sarcastic airiness. There were a few moments of silence.

'I think he'll rape me one day,' Hermione remarked quietly in despair. She didn't look at him but assumed he was smirking at her bitter joke. So what he said next made her whole body go rigid.

'I wouldn't let him,' he said softly, and his voice was just a smidgeon off its usual blankness.

Against her own will, Hermione's head instantly snapped up to stare into Zabini's dark eyes, surprised and all of a sudden too warm. And the butterflies had suddenly grown three times their usual massiveness. His eyes were boring into hers with a sudden ferocious intensity that she was sure she wasn't meant to be seeing and Hermione swallowed a rather large rock that had lodged itself in her throat.

As she struggled to control the emotions and sensations running through her body, Hermione was vaguely aware of Blaise moving closer with a slow, intentional grace that made it look like he was gliding. Or at least standing on a skateboard that someone who was hiding under the bed was gently pushing towards her.

Realizing the intense vibe in the room was just getting worse, and that her butterflies were possibly plotting to kill her with the ginormous strokes of their wings against her insides, Hermione though it was best to change the subject, and possibly look away from Zabini (if that were possible, though Hermione highly doubted it) to discourage his gradual glide towards her.

'H-how long do you think we have until - until Madame Pomfrey comes back to s-slather us in lotion?' she stammered quickly, and fought the grimace that had almost broken across her face as her stuttering voice came out in a soft, breathy voice. And of course, it did nothing to stop Blaise's flight towards the table she was seated on.

Blaise shrugged. 'Two, three minutes,' he guessed in an equally soft but annoyingly sturdy voice, now less than an arm's length away from her.

Hermione was happy she was sitting down, because her malfunctioning body was suddenly so much worse and she felt strangely hollow at the sight of his almost non-existent, kind of amused smirk, something that – had she been standing up – would have caused her knees to buckle beneath her. Plus, for some unexplainable reason, his innocent words made her face flush annoyingly and the butterflies do a nervous jig in the bowels of her gut. Or maybe it was explainable: even though the question was meant so that the conversation could switch to something more innocent and less… intimate, Hermione kept getting hormonal thoughts about what she and Zabini could to in two or three minutes.

Yeah, she would probably have to stay in the Hospital Wing for a few months at least, even if she _did _have any chance of recovering from her perverted state. Which she probably didn't as long as Blaise Zabini was alive.

'Oh,' she breathed from lack of anything better to say and she could feel the front of Blaise's jeans against her knees. She shivered as she looked up at his all-too-close face.

His face would have been totally and utterly impassive if not for the obvious softness of his features, and how at that moment his black, molten rock eyes were more of a home to Hermione than Hogwarts or even her parent's home had ever been.

She swallowed again to try and rid her throat of its parched state and licked her equally dry lips but none of this registered in her mind as much as the violent electric currents that crackled through to the tips of her toes when Blaise's forefinger and thumb gently grasped her chin.

This was bad. Blaise Zabini was a big no-no! He was forbidden! They couldn't be doing this! What if Madame Pomfrey came back and saw them like this? Hermione tried to motivate herself to push Blaise away by trying to think up the worst of the rumours that would be all over the school in the next hour or so.

But she couldn't.

Why?

Because right then her whole body went numb and she couldn't think up one single comprehensible thought to save her life – all because Blaise Zabini tilted her chin up and pressed his lips to hers.

That's why.


	10. Understanding

**10 – Understanding**

Hermione stared at the smooth, arching stone ceiling of her dorm and a single tear – the first and most significant tear she'd shed – began its journey down her cold, tense face. Again, she replayed the scene in her head.

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_Her whole body went numb and she couldn't think up one single comprehensible thought to save her life – all because Blaise Zabini tilted her chin up and pressed his lips to hers._

_She was nothing but a pile of Hermione-sized goo as Blaise kissed her with a level of tenderness she had never experienced before. No part of his body was touching her but for the two fingers that firmly held her chin – meaning there was nothing, no support at all to make Hermione feel like she had a chance at staying upright, but somehow and quite miraculously, she managed._

_Seconds passed and Hermione still couldn't find any of her mind controls to get her lips working to participate in the kiss; to tell Blaise that, well, she _wanted _this. She just sat there with her face upturned – and even _that _wasn't her doing – and marvelled at the feel of Blaise's firm, warm lips as they gently massaged her own. _

_Eventually, her fingers crept up to place themselves feather-light against Blaise's ribs, and Hermione found herself finally leaning into Blaise's kiss. Almost instantly, she felt the pressure returned as a little of Blaise's gentleness slipped away. She pulled away for a brief second – just long enough for her to swallow away the dryness in her throat – and then crushed her lips to Blaise's once more, her fingers clutching at his t-shirt to pull him closer. And, much to Hermione's delight, Blaise responded by gently coaxing her mouth open. _

_So with the 'give some, get some' concept of kissing under her belt, Hermione slipped her hands up to Blaise's neck, threading her fingers through the silky hair at the nape of his neck, sighing when she felt Blaise's arm snake around her waist to press into her back, the one that held her cheek slipping up to entwine in her curls._

_She felt like she was soaring – or maybe that was just the butterflies. Either way, Hermione felt _magnificent. _There was no denying that this was the best feeling she'd ever achieved – even better than when she first saw that little red and gold badge peeping out of that 'Congratulations – You're Head Girl!' letter. _

_And Blaise?_

_Yeah, he was the best thing in her life. At that moment, he was the _reason _for her life._

_And then the stupid Slytherin pulled away. Darn boy probably needed to breathe._

'_Nononononononono…' Hermione murmured so quickly it just came out as an almost incoherent, rugged hum as she tugged Blaise's sweet-tasting, lips – which were quite frankly a gift from God – back down to her own currently spoiled ones. Blaise seemed to comply willingly, and when he captured Hermione's lips in his once more in a passionate kiss, she could feel the lopsided smile/smirk she'd come to love affecting the shape of his mouth._

_Hermione, with a strange stroke of confidence that was affecting her every move at that moment and to which she was entirely grateful, pressed her body against Blaise's own, deliciously hard one. _

_And then everything went wrong._

_With her body crushed so definitely against his, Hermione got to experience feeling every single one of Blaise's muscles tense and stiffen as if Blaise had suddenly been stunned from behind and for a brief second, Hermione was scared that that _was _what had happened. His lips – which had frozen against her own – were suddenly and cruelly torn from hers and her eyes flew open to stare into Blaise's dark, swirling orbs. Her insides – which had been melting into an oozing puddle – froze where they were as even though the rest of Blaise's face was _

_painfully indifferent, his eyes were large and pleading with apology. The expression made Hermione's whole being pinch with worry and fear._

'_I ca –'_

_Her heart squeezed when Blaise's voice broke. His eyes fluttered close for a second and when he opened them again, his face was as impassive as the day she'd met him. _

'_I'm sorry.'_

_And then it wasn't only Hermione that had frozen, but the whole entire world was covered in merciless ice as she wordlessly, _numbly, _watched Blaise Zabini walk away._

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And that's when the anger hit her.

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_Six days later…_

Hermione sat in the library, a sense of dé jà vu overcoming her as she scrutinized the back of Zabini's head, wondering what would happen to him if looks could kill. She had a feeling he knew of her glaring, but couldn't bring herself to care. Stupid Slytherin.

Unable to take being around him anymore, Hermione stood up with a quite huff and stalked into the shelves where she blindly searched the shelves for an unknown book.

'There are two circular scars – about the size of your eyes – that have just been burned into the back of my head.'

'Oh, brilliant,' sneered Hermione in the appropriate library volume without taking her eyes off the shelf she was scanning, her vision blurred by the sudden anger that the butterflies had roared with at the sound of his soft, aloof voice. 'That's an even better outcome than I was aiming for.'

'Care to explain why?'

Hermione marched away from him, her eyes roving over the spines of the books as her finger trailed over them, as if she really _did _care what the books were. She didn't answer him but he still followed her.

'Why don't you go back to your studying or whatever it was you were doing before you decided to harass me,' she hissed. 'Or perhaps you should visit Madame Pomfrey. _She'd_ probably be able to explain those scars on your head.'

'I can't go back there,' he told her and something about his voice made shivers run down her spine. And they weren't good shivers either.

'Why not?' she asked with a childlike stubbornness.

There was a pause in which Hermione took no breaths before Zabini said, still in his calm, impassive voice; 'Too many memories, I guess.'

Hermione's jaw clenched and her finger halted in its slow flight across the rows of books. And then continued it with a new vigour.

'Will you look at me?' Zabini asked suddenly, his hand shooting out to envelope around Hermione's small one. The warmth of his body centimetres away from her made her whole body feel weak.

'You're not the boss of me,' she murmured indignantly, unable to muster even her whole voice to speak clearly let alone a good comeback and she looked down at the lower shelves pointedly just to piss him off.

Seconds ticked by and Zabini did not drop Hermione's hand nor did he move away. Hermione felt her knees slowly grow weaker and weaker and the small gap between the two teenagers gradually began closing as Hermione felt her body's resistance slipping, the comforting warmth radiating from the Slytherin taking its toll on Hermione's hormonal mind and her body.

'I don't want you to be mad,' came Zabini's silky voice from right next to Hermione's ear, his warm breath kissing the slope of her neck and shoulder.

'Maybe you haven't heard,' replied Hermione, her voice coming out in an unsteady breath, much to her chagrin as she continued to blindly watch the books, painfully aware of Zabini's warm fingers holding hers and how she could now feel the thin fabric of his school shirt against her back. 'But you can't always get what you want. Or doesn't that apply to the wealthy Zabini family?'

Again, there was a pause before Zabini spoke.

'You know it wouldn't work.'

'What wouldn't work?' she retorted, knowing full well what he meant.

'This,' he replied softly. 'Us.'

A bitter smile tainted Hermione's lips for a brief second. That's right. She wasn't good enough for him.

'So will you let go of my arm?' she countered.

There came a strangled cry from ahead and Hermione's eyes left the lower shelves instantly to focus on the frozen figure of none other than Ernie Macmillan standing at the opening of the aisle.

Zabini gave an almost inaudible sigh before he dropped Hermione's arm in a manner that made it seem almost reluctant. Hermione took a step forward and out of what could have looked like the embrace of Zabini.

'So the rumours _are_ true?' asked Ernie with wide, hostile eyes.

'No,' replied Hermione instantly in a firm voice that made the mere idea preposterous, at the same time that Zabini said in an equally firm voice, 'What's it to you?'

Ernie's eyes narrowed at Zabini maliciously before turning to Hermione with almost pleading eyes.

'You're making a mistake, Hermione,' he insisted but Hermione shook her head tiredly.

'I'm not making a mistake, Ernie. I'm not doing anything.'

'Then what do you call this?!' exclaimed Ernie in a hiss, flapping a flustered hand in Zabini's direction angrily.

'_I _call it none of your business, Macmillan,' replied Zabini in a strangely cool voice as he stepped forward so he was standing a little in front of Hermione. She gritted her teeth. How dare he??

'Zabini and I aren't seeing each other, Ernie. Believe me,' Hermione said through her clenched jaw, stepping forward so that she was standing level with Zabini. This was her fight just as much as it was his, maybe even more.

Ernie eyed them both suspiciously, lingering on Zabini for a bit longer than necessary, before sighing.

'You have to understand it's a bit hard for me to do that… under the, uh, circumstances.' Ernie shot another murderous glance at Zabini, who stood coolly by Hermione's side.

'Alright,' Zabini shrugged, his voice still edged with the slightest bit of steel. Ernie's face made it clear he wasn't talking to him.

Ernie looked at Hermione again with that pleading in his eyes. 'I still think you're making a big mistake, Hermione,' he told her quietly.

'That's fine too,' said Zabini. Hermione glared at him out the corner of her eye. Stupidly arrogant Slytherin.

Ernie shook his head pitifully and turned to go.

'Wait,' said Hermione quickly and when Ernie turned to look back at her hopefully the mean part of her registered how pathetic he was. But then again, all he was doing was caring. 'You won't tell anyone that you saw us… together, will you?' she asked awkwardly, watching Ernie apprehensively. Beside her, Zabini was quiet and kind of frozen, in a casual, 'I really don't care' way. If that was possible.

'So it _is –_'

'_No, _Ernie, the rumours are _not _true,' snapped Hermione, her anxiousness replaced with irritation. 'Which is why I don't want you starting anymore,' she continued less harshly.

Ernie seemed to take a deep breath before nodding. 'Ok, Hermione. I won't tell anyone. For _your _sake_.' _Again, he glanced at Zabini with considerable hatred.

Hermione gave a forced smile of gratitude. 'Thank you, Ernie,' she said sincerely and he gave her another pathetic, suffered glance before disappearing into another aisle.

Hermione rounded on Zabini.

'How _dare _you?' she asked in a vicious whisper, aware that Ernie was only in the next aisle but that the thick books would muffle her voice quite well. Her chocolate eyes flashed dangerously as she glared up at Zabini, who stared down at her with cool, composed eyes.

'Sorry?' asked Zabini, his voice hinting only the idea of confusion.

'How dare you think you have the right to be all defensive and – and – _protective_ over me?!'

Zabini raised an eyebrow. 'Whatever gave you that impression?'

Hermione glared at him. He was _insufferable. _'Oh, I dunno, maybe it was the fact that you hardly let me say a word when Ernie was obviously talking to _me, _or maybe it was the way you decided I was so vulnerable you had to stand in front of me to shield me from _Ernie McMillan _of all people for crying out loud!'

'Granger,' began Zabini in a dry, almost warning voice but Hermione cut him off.

'No! No, Zabini. You know what? You need to freaking make up your mind! First you kiss me like there's no tomorrow and then you just _walk off. _Hello? – I _am _a teenager you know! I _have _hormones! You can't just _do _that!' Zabini was looking at Hermione like she'd lost a few marbles, which she probably had. But Hermione didn't care. 'But I could handle it not being good enough for you – I could _handle_ not having you around, I could handle not having _you. _Because these past few days I've barely seen you and I haven't even as much as caught your eye so that made it _easy. _Well, maybe not easy but _easier. _But _this –_' Hermione gestured between the two of them, whacking Zabini's chest in the process, '_this _does not exactly help, alright? So where do you get off being such a jerk to Ernie Macmillan? He never did anything to you! The only thing he ever did was like me, so what am I supposed to think? I'll tell you what I think – I think you're jealous!' Hermione couldn't be sure, after all her eyes were pretty unfocussed because of her fury, but she thought she saw Zabini flinch as 

she hissed the word 'jealous' at him. The butterflies were doing crazy 360's in her stomach, making her whole body drum with some retarded sort of adrenaline. She continued her rant like a crazy woman: 'Yeah! _Jealous! _And I don't like it! Because you're not meant to be even _talking _to me! You don't – you _never _– kiss a girl, walk out on the kiss, and then decide it's still your right to be all defensive over that same girl! D'you know what what you're doing's called? It's called _mixed signals, _Zabini, and people don't usually appreciate it! And I _know _we can't be together, alright? – I _get _that, and I can _handle _that – I _am _handling that. Because _you _decided you wanted to be a freaking Slytherin and I didn't really have a choice so _I'm _a Gryffindor and I understand what'll happen if we decided we wanted to be together and go public and all so I have a pretty good idea as to why you _did _walk out on our kiss but don't – just _do not _– think you can go around being a jerk to every guy who looks at me – and _never _touch me again, alright, Zabini? Just piss o – mmh!'

Zabini's hands held her face quite tightly and his tongue had already bullied its way into Hermione's mouth. Her will to resist had crumbled embarrassingly quickly – hadn't even taken a second, really – and Hermione was pressing her body feverishly up against his, clutching fistfuls of his shirt and kissing him back with a passion she didn't even know she could muster.

And then he did it again.

Zabini tore himself away from Hermione with a rather dirty swearword and turned swiftly away from her so that his back was to her, his hands stretching up to rest on his head with an irritation Hermione had never seen before. Finding it hard to avert her eyes from the black silky boxers that could be seen peeking out from beneath his school pants now that Zabini's shirt had ridden up, Hermione licked her dry lips and spoke.

'What the hell was _that _for?' she hissed, her chest heaving even after only two or three seconds of their lip-lock. 'You see – that's _exactly _what I'm talking about. I thought I told you never to touch me again!' Never mind the fact that she'd kissed him back.

Zabini turned but Hermione could see he still hadn't managed to pull himself into the composed, cool man she'd first imposed her fury upon.

'I'm sorry!' he said indignantly, making Hermione's eyes widen. 'You look pretty se – good – when you're angr – you know what, you are _so annoying.' _

Under any other circumstances, Zabini's flustered stuttering would have been funny but right now it just confused Hermione and she stared at him with huge, unblinking eyes.

'I-im sorry,' she said, not really sure what else to say.

'No, it was….' But he didn't finish his sentence, his liquid eyes finally meeting Hermione's. She chewed her lip in the awkward silence that ensued.

'You have to understand,' began Zabini, but again, Hermione cut him off.

'I _do _understand, Zabini,' Hermione said, her voice heavy with something like fatigue. 'You don't have to explain it to me.' She turned to leave but Zabini grabbed her hand, dropping it like a hot potato when she turned to face him with an impatient look on her face.

'I don't think you do,' he told her and Hermione watched him expectantly.

'Fine. Explain yourself, Mr Zabini.'

Zabini looked down at her seriously, obviously not impressed by her casualness.

'You know what will happen if we were to be… together.'

Hermione nodded, raising an eyebrow sceptically. 'That better not be all you have.'

She noticed a smirk flitter across Zabini's face.

'It would send your rep and your social status – everything you've established here – down the toilet. You'd be the Gryffindor outcast who got with a _Slytherin. _Pretty much all the Gryffindors – and the Slytherins – and maybe even some of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs – would hate you or look down on you.' He waited until she looked at him and then, holding her gaze firmly and with a very Zabini-like stubbornness said, 'I can't be responsible for that.'

'Are you saying you're doing this for me?' Hermione wanted to ask, but she had a feeling asking that would be too intimate, and would totally ruin the purpose of this conversation, so she just continued to chew her lip and nodded.

'Ok. Fine.'

She could see Zabini wasn't exactly impressed by her current vocabulary but she just didn't have it in her to say anything more. She just couldn't care.

He stared at her for a while, his jaw firm and his eyes smouldering, before he turned with a small shake of his head and disappeared the way Ernie had left.

And Hermione, standing with a cobweb of mixed and confused emotions knotting up around her butterflies, who by the feel of it, were trying desperately trying to break free, could only think one thing.

And that was that she needed to see Ginny.

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**I'm SO SO sorry this took so long! And it's not even that long of a chapter! I'm not going to give you my excuses because their all quite boring and I know you don't want to hear them.**

**Well regardless, I hope you enjoyed the chapter – I'll try to get that next one up STAT.**

**Thanks to everyone who's reading and especially those who are reviewing,**

**krazie-livin**

**P.S. Everyone just has to go read ****il principe**** – this quite frankly AWESOME story-in-process by 3rdPlanet who, by the way I am totally grateful to for the mention and to whom this chapter is dedicated to because I've decided I owe her. :) **


	11. Preoccupancy

**11 – Preoccupancy **

'So the rumours _are _true!' Ginny squealed, bouncing up and down on Hermione's bed, making it jiggle. Hermione glared at her.

'_Keep your voice down,' _she hissed. 'And no, the rumours are _not _true.'

'So you guys _haven't _been exchanging passionate kisses between the bookshelves of the library?' Ginny asked with dry disbelief, especially since Hermione had just told her (very briefly and _very _reluctantly) about the way Zabini had grabbed her in the library.

'No!' she said indignantly, and then when Ginny raised an eyebrow; 'Well, only one.'

'Right,' agreed Ginny. 'And you guys _haven't _been having a secret relationship behind everyone's backs?'

'_No!' _

Again, Ginny raised an eyebrow.

'We didn't have a _relationship – _we had a _friendship. _There's a big difference,' grumbled Hermione huffily. 'The relationship only developed about a week ago and today was the first day I talked to him since then.'

'Yeah,' said Ginny, 'but it was still behind everyone's backs, right?'

Hermione's eyes narrowed. 'Yes,' she sighed. 'But it doesn't matter, because I'm pretty sure both types of relationship are over now.'

'If it doesn't matter then why are you here?' asked Ginny stubbornly. Now that Hermione had confessed to her, Ginny had taken the relationship under her wing and was determined to put it together again. Like it all had a big impact on _her _life as well as Hermione's.

Hermione sighed again. It seemed she was doing a lot of that this evening with Ginny.

'Because I _want _it to matter,' she admitted grudgingly.

'Because you _like him, _right?' Now it just sounded like Ginny was talking to a thick-skulled three-year old. Hermione stared at her dryly in appreciation.

'Yes,' she replied in a sour voice. Ginny laughed.

'Only you would be pissed because you like someone!' she said.

'It's not just _someone, _Ginny,' Hermione moaned. 'It's _freaking Blaise Zabini!' _He's a _Slytherin!' _

'I know!' Ginny cried in an amused voice, as if it were all a very funny joke. 'So what?'

'So – look what everyone's saying even when I'm _not _dating him!'

'The same thing they always say whenever a new couple gets found out!'

'We're not a couple. And besides, that's not true. Have you seen the way they eye me in the corridors? They didn't eye _you and Harry _like that. It's so prejudiced and mean! Besides, half the girls who eye me like I've betrayed them have slept with Draco Malfoy! It's revolting! And sometimes I even catch Ron looking at me all disgusted.' Hermione leant back against her pillows tiredly, picking at her nails.

Ginny rolled her eyes. 'Don't worry about Ron. He'll come round once we tell him.'

Hermione bolted upright. 'You can't tell _anyone!' _ she all but screamed.

Ginny didn't even bat an eyelid. She stretched out on her stomach in a cat-like manner, twisting her ankles in the air and looked at Hermione sternly.

'You don't want me to tell anyone, you don't want me to do any of my match-making magic – so then why'd you even tell me?'

Hermione was quiet for a while.

'I guess I just needed to tell _someone, _you know?' she said quietly. 'And maybe even get a little advice…?' she smiled tentatively and Ginny beamed back.

'I think you're doing the right thing right now. Keep it on the down-low until you actually become an official couple,' she wasn't talking to Hermione directly anymore, more to herself. Her words began to take on a demanding, almost military-like tone as she continued. 'Don't pursue him, because it makes you look to eager. Well, don't pursue him _yet. _If weeks go by and he still doesn't make any further moves, whip out your sexual prowess and just reel him in… Yeah, do that. But until then, wait for him to crack. He obviously can't keep his hands off you, seeing as he practically half-raped you in the library, so just keep being aloof until he makes the first move. But then, don't completely ignore him, either. Keep giving him the occasional smile, and look at him all innocent…'

Hermione zoned out of Ginny's musings, regretting she'd ever asked at all. But she was also very glad she did, because suddenly the burden wasn't as heavy, and she wasn't alone anymore – especially since Ginny seemed to have no problem that Hermione was crushing quite heavily on the enemy.

But the way Ginny spoke made everything so certain, as if it were just _inevitable _that Hermione and Zabini become a couple. As if she foresaw it or something. But Ginny obviously did not know Zabini. Perhaps she didn't know Hermione that well, since she spoke as if all this were _possible _for her – all the playfully innocent looks, and the sexual prowess and waiting for him to crack and all. Sure she'd tried her hand at being flirtatious – and pulled it off pretty well if she did say so herself, but then she'd only been teasing and that had been so _easy._

Hermione just wanted to get on with life. N.E.W.T.S were just around the corner but Hermione wasn't studying as much as she should have been, all due to the stupid Slytherin.

She couldn't stop thinking about him. And when she wasn't thinking about him, she was thinking about his kisses. The way her body had curved around his, pressed together in a way that should have been uncomfortable but never was. The feeling of the electricity running down to her toes making her whole body quiver. The tenderness of his kiss. But most importantly, the softening in his eyes right before he'd captured her lips in his own firm ones.

She wished Zabini were never born. She wished he'd never stolen her book!

'So, did you get all that?'

Hermione blinked a few times, being snapped out of her begrudging reverie, before answering. 'Uh – yeah.'

'Good. Just stick to those rules and you'll have him wrapped around your little pinky in no time!'

'Mmm. Great,' agreed Hermione somewhat sourly. Ginny rolled her eyes and then watched Hermione with a mischievously curious smile stretching her lips.

'What?' asked Hermione, looking at Ginny over the nail she had been picking at.

'Just so that I have this straight; Zabini hasn't snuck you into the Slytherin common room for any lust-filled nights has he?'

'_Ginny…'_

'I'll take that as a no. Good. Next one; your parents didn't cast you out of the house when they found out, which is why you had to stay at Hogwarts during Christmas and Zabini felt so immensely guilty that that's why _he _stayed too?'

'_No...' _moaned Hermione tiredly. How the hell had _that _rumour popped up? 'My parents don't even _know!' _

'Righto, just checking. Next one!'

'_Ginny!' _groaned Hermione.

'Aw, come on – one last one!'

'_Ugh_ – fine.'

Ginny beamed, obviously taking immense pleasure in Hermione irritation.

'You guys didn't cast off your virginities atop McGonagall's desk did you?'

Hermione's lip quirked and she blushed at the memory of very similar words falling out of Zabini's mouth like a seductively smooth, silk ribbon, way back when. Again, she felt the shiver run through her at the feel of his warm, sweet breath on her cheeks…

'_Ew! _Out of all the rumours to be true, Hermione, you choose _that one?!'_

'What?' Hermione cried, alarmed as again, she found herself snapping out of a reverie. '_No! _That one's definitely not true! No, no Ginny, not at all!'

Ginny eyed her suspiciously. '_Better _not be true,' she warned. 'And stop blushing dammit, it doesn't help to prove your point!'

'Sorry.'

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Five days later, Hermione hurried up a staircase… just as it unhinged itself and slowly swung itself in another direction. Her face froze into an irritated expression. She groaned.

'Brilliant!'

She was already late and now she had to find a new route to get the meeting with the Prefects. She rolled her eyes and, shoulders slumping with the unwanted challenge, continued her scamper up the staircase. She reached the landing and looked around wildly, desperately trying to decipher her location. Looking down one corridor, her feet absent-mindedly took her in another direction and, typical of her luck, she bumped into someone.

'Oh – sorry!' she exclaimed, still quite lost as she spun around to see the victim of her clumsiness. Instantly, her apologetic face was gone to be replaced by a frozen, coldly indifferent expression. Zabini stared back at her unblinkingly, his eyes burning into hers with an unknown emotion that made the very air tenser. Hermione's lips pressed into a taut line and she slipped past him, excusing herself with a coldly polite 'Zabini.'

Trying to keep her footsteps calm, even and not too hurried, Hermione continued down a random hallway. The panic rising in her stomach was caused by two things: one; that she still had no idea where she was or where she was headed, and two; she could feel Zabini's swirling eyes on her back.

'Lost, Granger?' his voice, raised just loud enough for here, cut through the tense silence easily and after a few more reluctant steps, Hermione paused, though she refused to face him.

'What's it to you?' she countered after a pause in which she held a mental debate as to whether or not to admit her predicament.

'We're on the fifth floor. You're headed for the West tower.'

Well that helped a mighty lot.

Hermione took up her steady pace once again, looking back only to nod at Zabini and give her brief thanks.

This was only the second encounter with Zabini after _that _day, but the last one had been just as cold and distant as this. It had been about two days ago…

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_Hermione hopped out of the portrait hole and began to make her way swiftly towards the Great Hall for dinner. She was nearly there when, emerging out of the shadows with hardly as much grace as someone like, say Blaise Zabini would have, Ernie drew up beside her and she stopped walking to watch him curiously._

'_Hi Ernie,' she said, trying not be falsely suspicious._

'_Hello, Hermione,' he greeted her with his usual formalness. 'May I talk to you?'_

'_Here?' asked Hermione, glancing at their open surroundings apprehensively._

'_Yes, I'll be quick,' Ernie assured her and she shrugged._

'_Ok.'_

_Ernie seemed to be having trouble lifting his gaze from his shoes and he jammed his hands into his pockets awkwardly. _

'_Ernie,' Hermione said, half afraid he'd forgotten she was there._

'_Ah – yes,' he said with a nervous start. 'Well – um – I know you're aware of my feelings for you…' he began, finally looking at Hermione and she felt her stomach sink in despair and pity._

'_Ernie…' she moaned silently, biting her lip and already feeling very mean._

'_Yes, well, I was wondering if you were free this Hogsmeade weekend to perhaps spend it with me...? I mean, it's the last one before N.E.W.T.S and I figured if I don't ask you now – I'll never get the chance!' he laughed nervously and Hermione forced herself to smile at his feeble joke._

'_Aw, Ernie,' she said quietly. 'Of course I'll come!' She smiled kindly and was glad to see Ernie's relieved grin in return. But then she looked at him a little apologetically and continued, 'But, I don't think it would be fair to go on a date, Ernie. I don't really like you in _that _way… I'm sorry,' she gave him a small smile but Ernie just looked thoroughly disappointed. 'But I'll still come with you! Just it won't be on a date – it'll just be two friends spending the day out together... Is that ok?'_

_For a while, Hermione thought Ernie would reject her proposal entirely, to spend the rest of the year scrupulously despising her, but then he shot her a reluctant and still quite sad smile and shrugged._

'_Sure, Hermione. I guess that'll be fun, too. I'm sorry to have bothered you, in the past, with the romantic pursuing.' _

_Hermione smiled, glad that Ernie wasn't the kind of person to exaggerate negative emotions. 'That's fine, Ernie. It's my fault. I should have made it clear sooner.'_

_Ernie nodded, though he still did not seem entirely fine, and there was something begrudging about his manner as he turned to go. Just as he was turning though, Ernie's eye seemed to catch on something and he shook his head bitterly. _

'_Figures,' he muttered resentfully and Hermione's head turned over her shoulder to see what could get him so riled up._

'_Figures' was right._

_Zabini stood, casually leaning against a stone gargoyle's side, watching the two with his bored expression on his face. _

_Freaking Slytherin._

_Hermione greased him off, taking a deep, irritated breath before drawing her robes tight around her body and marching through the double doors into the Great Hall without giving nosy Slytherin or the Hufflepuff a second glance._

- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - -

Why couldn't he just mind his own business?!

'I'm sorry, miss, I just thought that the rounds timetable was my business too…'

Hermione blinked and stared at the flustered fifth year Ravenclaw in surprise. Seated around the large wooden table in the Meeting Room, the other Prefects and Ernie Macmillan gaped at her in shock.

'Oh – yes!' she apologised, waving a hand in the air in disregard. 'Yes, of course it's your business. I'm sorry, I just got a little preoccupied…'


	12. Down to the Depths

**13 – Down to the Depths**

'_Oh my freaking goodness!'_

Hermione looked up from her book, which she'd in fact been too distracted to be bothered reading as she lay nestled in between the pillows on her four poster bed.

3 guesses as to what – or _whom_ for that matter – had been the distraction.

The redhead flew into the seventh year girl's dormitory with her shopping bags still clutched tightly in her hands and her face pink with excitement.

'Ginny!' cried Hermione in surprise. 'And how was the Hogsmeade trip with Harry?'

'Wonderful, as always,' replied Ginny dismissively as she came to the foot of Hermione's bed, then she frowned. 'Never mind that – why are _you _back so early?'

Hermione smiled wryly. 'If I had to spend another moment in the presence of that far too pompous Hufflepuff, I think I'd have blown a blood vessel. I told him I didn't feel too well,' she admitted sheepishly and Ginny grinned.

'Well whatever's the reason, it's a good thing you're here!'

'And why's that?' asked Hermione with light-hearted curiosity as she laid down her book and drew her knees up to her chest comfortably.

Ginny smiled with almost smug cheekiness.

'You'll never guess who decided to pay you a visit!'

Hermione frowned. 'Who?'

Ginny raised an eyebrow, apparently surprised Hermione didn't know who she was talking about. But all of a sudden, she did.

'What's _he _doing here?' she hissed, panic evident in her expression and voice. Ginny beamed, ever happy that their relationship could be taking a step closer to actually being a relationship.

'Who knows!' she cried, sounding almost ecstatic. Hermione sighed and flopped back onto her pillows, her hair splaying out around her face.

'Where is he?' she asked tiredly. Ginny crawled onto the bed, dropping her bags onto the floor. She peered into Hermione's face encouragingly.

'He's just outside the portrait hole,' she whispered excitedly. 'He asked me to 'ask Hermione if she could spare me a moment.''

Hermione frowned again, but there was no denying that Ginny's fervor was contagious. Her butterflies were soaring about in her stomach and she wanted to lock all the doors and climb under her heavy covers and run out, skipping down the steps three at a time and launch herself into his arms both at the same time.

But these last few days, her 'feelings' about him hadn't wavered in the least and just to make it easier, and not to make it obvious how much he affected her, she'd treated him with nothing but pure hostility. Besides, she still hated him for his selfish decision.

_All the Gryffindors – and the Slytherins – and maybe even some of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs – would hate you or look down on you… I can't be responsible for that._

Damn selfish Slytherin.

Hermione sighed again and looked at Ginny tentatively.

'Should I go?' she asked in a whisper.

'_Yeah!' _she whispered back fervently.

Hermione bit her lip and giggled, feeling twelve years old again.

'Ok.'

She rolled off the bed and stood up, straightening her clothes nervously. She was halfway to the door, taking small nervous steps, when she turned to look at Ginny with innocent panic.

'Ginny…' she said, 'do I look alright?'

Ginny, who had followed her, giggled and pushed her towards the door. 'You look gorgeous!'

Hermione took a deep breath, eying her best girlfriend apprehensively before nodding and slipping out on the staircase – where she proceeded to take them two at a time (three was just too risky, but if she could do it, she certainly she could have), her heart thumping in her chest. She hurried across the common room, glad that it was quite empty due to everyone still being in Hogsmeade. It was only when she found herself face to face with the portrait hole that she skidded to a halt to think about what lay on the other side.

Blaise Zabini.

By now, she was certain she had feelings for the darn boy, but she wasn't sure how deep those feelings ran. All she knew was that she enjoyed being in his company. Oh, and his kisses. They were quite nice too.

But it wasn't that simple. Even though she enjoyed his company, indulging in it was like dipping her toes into hell's waters. Hermione didn't even want to think about how wrong kissing him was.

She frowned. Why was Zabini here? Why did he want to see her? Hadn't he caused her enough trouble already?

Hermione decided she would just have to go out to find out, especially since the reason Zabini had decided to break his pledge of silence would have to be a _very _good one. Her butterflies stroked the insides of her stomach as she wondered the possibilities of that reason.

An idea struck her, causing her eyes to widen at the prospect. Her head cocked to the side and she stared at the floor in front of her as she considered it. Then she took another deep breath, letting it whoosh out of her lips quite loudly before slowly pushing open the Fat Lady's portrait.

She stepped out, and although she hated to admit it to herself, her eyes eagerly sought out the tall, lean figure of Zabini. Only, he wasn't there.

Desperately keeping the flood of disappointment that threatened to engulf her at bay, Hermione pressed her lips into a tight, pouting line. She took a steadying breath.

Figures. Perhaps he decided she wasn't good enough to waste his time. Perhaps he'd just wanted to tease her. _Maybe _this was Ginny's idea of some cruel way of making Hermione admit that her feelings for Zabini _did _run deep.

Another calming breath and Hermione turned to make her way back into the common room.

Except that she suddenly found herself face to face with Blaise Zabini, causing her to take a sharp intake of breath.

Once she'd gotten over the initial shock, Hermione found she couldn't look away from the silent Slytherin as he stood before, hands hidden in pockets and regarding her with a stare that seemed to x-ray her soul. So she stared back expectantly, unable to keep a little coolness out of her gaze.

'Hi,' she said, her voice quivering, after a few seconds of their silent battle of obstinance. Zabini nodded his greeting and then slowly and with jealousy-provoking grace, extended a hand towards the hallway.

'Do you want to walk with me?'

She considered him for a few seconds, wondering, for the first time in many months, what he was thinking. And then after she nodded once and set off at a tranquil pace with him noiselessly by her side, Hermione wondered what _she _was thinking.

'When did you get back from your date with Macmillan?' he asked, his smooth voice a hum in the almost foreboding silence that echoed about the empty hallways.

'It wasn't a date,' Hermione found herself quick to assure him. He did not look at her when he spoke so she decided not to grant him any favours by doing the same. Flushing because of her immediate and insistent answer, Hermione looked away. 'Besides, it's none of your business,' she muttered frigidly.

'You're right. It's not.'

He'd stopped walking and was facing her so Hermione turned to him also. She raised an eyebrow when he didn't say anything more.

'Don't I get a sorry?' she inquired, feeling cheated.

Blaise smirked lightly, his hands still tucked in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders.

'I'm not a liar, Granger,' he replied. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

'Are you saying you're not sorry for inquiring in my personal life?'

Blaise regarded her, his head tilted to the side a little.

'Was it really so nosy of me? All I asked was when you arrived back to the common room. I'm sure Ginny asked you the same thing.'

Hermione glared at him and spun on her heel, starting her march back to the common room.

'You're insufferable!'

'Yeah, I missed you too, Granger.'

Hermione froze because although the words were spoken casually, and in Zabini's usual uninterested voice, the meaning made Hermione's heart squeeze quite painfully. So when she felt his warm, rough fingers close around her wrist and pull, she didn't protest and let herself be spun and propelled into Zabini's chest.

Neither did she protest when she felt his other hand cup her face, his blunt fingers pushing into her hair, the hand holding hers tugging her close so that she was pulled flush against his deliciously hard body.

And she most certainly did not protest when his lips smothered hers, even though it quite successfully cut off her oxygen supply, which she thought was rather lenient of her.

But then again, all this happened in two or three seconds, so there really wasn't much time to put up a fight anyway.

But all these thoughts – along with any hostility that had been occupying her mind – fled and Hermione was left with nothing but raging hormone levels and Blaise's arms around her to keep her upright. And that, strangely enough, was all that she needed.

They kissed gently, yet Hermione felt there could have been a dozen cameras surrounding her, shooting a scene for a porn film. Her arms found their way to Blaise's neck and she hugged herself to him, letting slip an almost silent sigh and his arms tightened around her waist.

It occurred to Hermione that they shouldn't be doing this, especially not in the middle of the hallway, but for some reason that usual flood of panic and antagonism steered clear of her and she was a cool as a cucumber. And strangely happy, too.

Her hands slipped down to Blaise's face and she pulled away, unable to keep a small, peaceful smile off her face. Blaise's eyes opened and Hermione's smile slipped away as she became lost in them. She felt Blaise suck in a breath.

'Sorry,' he said softly, his ragged voice sending goosebumps up her arms. 'I didn't come here to – that is, I wasn't meant to begin like this…' He trailed off and Hermione frowned. Was he honestly still keeping up that charade? The idea that had formed in Hermione's head popped into her mind once more.

'Wait,' she shushed him. She stepped away from Blaise but slipped her hand carefully into his. His eyes flicked down to their entwined hands and then back up to her face, which was a little pink. She bit her lip before continuing, some deranged kind of excitement bubbling inside of her.

'At the end of year,' she began slowly, 'once seventh year is over… If we… well if we go our separate ways… That will be it.' Blaise's face was unreadable as she continued, her words suddenly rushing out, 'And I don't want that! I mean, I want to change that. I want… well think about it. Once this year is over, I technically won't be a Gryffindor anymore. I mean I will, at heart, but that won't be part of my label. I'll just be Hermione Granger. You'll just be Blaise Zabini…' She trailed off, hoping Blaise could understand what she was trying desperately to say. Her heart leapt as the corner of his mouth lifted into her favourite lopsided smirk and his eyes sparkled.

'You would really wait for me?' he asked, his voice husky.

A smile twitched at Hermione's mouth as she nodded. 'Yes,' she whispered, and at that moment she realised how deep her feelings ran. All the way to the depths of her heart.

'Until the end of the year?' he prompted again and again she nodded, taking a step closer and squeezing his fingers lightly. Zabini smirked again and shook his head a little, as if at her folly, and strands of black glossy hair fell over his eyes.

'So you _are _afraid of rumours,' he teased, his voice low and soft as he looked down at her small form. 'Brilliant timing. Right when I'd rather you whipped out that Gryffindor courage and stood your ground against all these prejudice wizards.'

She frowned, her lips sticking out in a small pout as she gazed up at him. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean, I don't want you to wait for me. _I _don't want to wait for _you. _I'm not that patient, Hermione. I can't let themwin; I need you _now.' _

Her heart had jumped up into her throat at the sound of Hermione's name falling out of Blaise's mouth like a warm, crisp autumn leaf for the very first time and as his words sunk in she had to bite her lip to stop herself from squealing out in delight. But she couldn't stop the grin that broke out across her face.

She tugged on his hand, pulling him forward before grabbing his shirt, lifting onto her tip toes and pressing her lips to his happily.

Blaise was the first one to break off and he leant his forehead against hers, refusing to let her go.

'I thought you were too much of a wussy to face the rumours,' she teased after a moments silence, just staring at each other with a certain level of admiration and he smirked.

'Only for your protection,' he told her firmly as he let her slip from his grasp. Hermione smiled.

'Whatever,' she mocked and he rolled his eyes.

'I thought you hated me,' challenged Blaise and for a moment Hermione was quiet as she regarded him thoughtfully.

'So did I,' she admitted.

'And now?'

'And now…' Hermione frowned as she stared into Blaise's clear, unreadable eyes. To the depths of her heart, her feelings ran... 'I'm not sure. But I guess I always knew there was a very fine line between hate and... and love.' She tried to smile but found she couldn't.

And then Blaise had very promptly gathered her into his arms and was kissing her once again with a swift firmness.

'Well, Hermione Granger,' Blaise told her when surfaced for air, his voice breathy and ragged. 'Just so you know, I'm definitely in love with you.'


	13. Just So You Know

**So this whole week I've been pondering the idea of another chapter, perhaps an epilogue but I can't seem to find anything that fits. So, I've decided I'll just end this story here, if you lot don't mind :) . Because, well, they're together right? And they're gonna fight those rumours and stay together no matter what. BUT, I might right a sequel. Hm…**

**So, in this chapter, I've included the song that was my inspiration. Now, I'm not a big fan of Jesse McCartney, but this song just screamed 'Get a story out of me!', so I did. If you read it, you'll probably very easily be able to pick out the links between the song and my now complete story; Breaking Stigmas. But maybe I'll point some out to you anyway. **

**So without further ado, here is Jesse McCartney's 'Just So You Know', you can look at it from either Blaise or Hermione's point of view, though Hermione's probably easier:**

I shouldn't love you but I want to  
I just can't turn away  
I shouldn't see you but I can't move  
I can't look away **(for example, Hermione's staring periods)**

and I don't know how to be fine when I'm not  
cause I don't know how to make the feelings stop **(Hermione's butterflies)**

just so you know  
this feelings takin control  
of me and i can't help it  
i wont sit around  
i can't let him win now **(if you thought of 'him' as 'them', like the rest of school…?)**  
thought you should know  
i've tried my best to let go of you  
but i don't want to  
i just gotta say it all before you go  
just so you know

it's gettin hard to  
be around you  
theres so much i can't say  
and do you want me to hide the feelings  
and look away

and i dont know how to be fine when i'm not  
cause i don't know how to make the feelings stop

just so you know  
this feelings takin control  
of me and i can't help it  
i wont sit around  
i can't let him win now  
though you should know  
i've tryed my best to let go of you  
but i don't want to  
i just gutta say it all before you go  
just so you know

this emptyness is killin me  
i'm wonderin why i've waited so long  
lookin back i realize it was always there to be spoken  
now i'm waitin here  
been waitin here

just so you know  
this feelings takin control  
of me and i can't help it  
i wont sit around  
i can't let him win now  
though you should know  
i've tryed my best to let go of you  
but i don't want to  
i just gutta say it all before you go  
just so you know **(anyone remember the last line of last chapter?)**

**Yes, so I'm sorry to leave you like this, but I just don't see a reason to go on. Maybe it's because I'm lazy, I don't know. But, forgive me, won't you? **

**Besides, I **_**do **_**have a little bit a treat coming up in the form of another chapter. Before you get all excited and think I'm contradicting myself, it's not another instalment in the story, just another chapter… See if you can figure out what I'm talking about, lol.**

**:) :) :)**

**Whether you forgive me for ending so abruptly or not, I still love all you guys for reading Breaking Stigmas up til now,**

**Krazie-livin**


	14. Bonus Chapter

**Bonus Chapter – **

**Chapter 3 – Hiding (Rewritten in Blaise Zabini's POV)**

**Enjoy :)**

Footsteps.

Quiet, hurried, careful, cautious – and feminine.

Blaise frowned. They were headed straight for the Prefects Bathroom. Which, Blaise was not ashamed to admit, he was illegally enjoying the luxury of. But honestly, what kind of stuck-up set of Prefects were selfish enough to keep the big-enough-to-produce-three-echoes bathroom to themselves? The Hogwarts set of Prefects, that's who. He'd never liked them. He'd never liked any of the Heads, either. All snobbish little know-alls.

Although, that Granger girl seemed to be a little different. Still one hell of a know-all, but Blaise wasn't sure about anything else about her. Yeah, there was definitely something a little different about Granger…

His curiosity growing as the footsteps approached, Blaise threw his shirt back onto the bench and turned to the large mahogany door, his head cocked to the side.

Should he hide? As soon as the thought drifted into his mind, it drifted out again. It seemed Blaise could get away with a lot of things around here. People never gave him much trouble. Especially girls. They just turned extremely red, like they were suddenly suffering from lack of air. More times than one, especially around his tween years, Blaise had wondered if he just breathed so deeply there was never any air left for those with smaller lungs – like the girls – around him.

He listened intently as the girl breathed out the password that he'd persuaded – or was it intimidated? – the Slytherin Prefect to 'let slip'.

Shock caused his eyes to widen a smidgeon as a mass of warm brown curls – accompanied by a body, of course – flew into the bathroom. Instantly, he recognized them to be Hermione Granger's. He watched her silently and curiously as she hastily slammed shut the heavy door and slid home the bolt – all surprisingly fast for someone with such delicate wrists. Her body collapsed against the door in relief and the question of her sanity leapt into Blaise's mind as he heard a rather maniacal giggle erupt from her panting red lips. He watched her – feeling oddly alienated and detached – as she slid to the floor slowly. He got the feeling he was intruding, despite the face he was there first, and began to wonder whether or not he should make his presence known… Perhaps with a polite cough? Or maybe a cool, 'Excuse me, Granger.'

But it was too late. She'd turned around and spotted him. It was obvious by the way she gasped so loud he was surprised there was any air left for_ him_ to inhale.

'Sweet Merlin!' she cried angrily, her face already gone a beetroot red. Blaise couldn't help but smirk a little. It was funny to watch how red that girl's face could go, as if all her blood cells had gone through the drill so many times they were just pros at getting up there to her cheeks. _Amazing. _

Straight after she'd gasped out her surprise – and upon noticing Blaise's shamelessly topless state – Granger's eyes snapped down to the floor as if on Naked Flesh Auto-Pilot. He smirked again. She was just too cute. Really.

Wait. Inappropriate thoughts. She's a _Gryffindor _Zabini!

'You're not a Prefect!' Granger snapped crossly, as if this should send Blaise out the door, stuttering bashful apologies whilst haphazardly pulling on a T-shirt.

Ha.

Did she honestly expect it to be that easy? Besides, _he was there first._

Blaise smirked challengingly. 'Neither are you.'

He felt like waggling his eyebrows smugly. _Take that. _

'I'm Head Girl. I'm allowed to be here.' Oh, poor, _poor _Granger. If she could only come up with a come-back like _that _she was going to have to find a career in tending pigmy puffs, because the real world was much much harsher.

But still, she had a fair point. And who was he to waste time with the pointless argument? There were better things he could be doing. A two feet long Potions essay for one. Blaise nodded and casually moved closer. It was weird, because he was sure that was what normal people did when they wanted to initiate polite conversation (because she obviously wasn't planning on moving away from the door any time soon), yet Granger's eyes widened and she eyed him like a deer who was about to be pranced on and torn apart limb by limb by a lion. And yes, he was the lion. A rather befitting (though rather graphic) metaphor, he thought.

'I take it you didn't come in here to take a bath,' he remarked, deciding to keep the conversation simple. Looking up at him, she grimaced rather guiltily – like _she _was the one breaking the rules. Wait a moment… why wasn't she taking points off? Why wasn't she giving him a detention?!

_Ah. _Again, his 'deep breathing' was working its magic.

'You're right,' Granger admitted, like he'd required a notepad and magnifying glass to figure it out. What a strange person.

'Hiding from Holmes?' Blaise asked, remembering seeing a tall, insecure looking boy trailing after her, Potter and Weasley a lot lately, apologizing profusely. Hogwarts gossip made sure Blaise knew the boy's name, house and reason for stalking. It was _his _fault Blaise had had to escort Miss Granger to the Hospital Wing. Merlin, what an idiot. Surely he could narrow down his aim to at least a hundred metres of his target?!

Granger scowled instinctively before replying tiredly, 'Yes.' Then she blinked and stared up at Blaise like she was seeing him for the first time. He stared back until she suddenly exploded. 'Merlin – will you put on a shirt? You're in a public place you know!'

Blaise almost grinned. Almost. Instead, he raised an eyebrow skeptically. Was she for real? She _did _know she was describing a _bathroom _as public, didn't she?

'Actually,' he corrected, 'it was quite a private place until you came barging in.'

This seemed to have the strangest effect on Granger. She glared at him thoroughly. Her lips twitched for a good few seconds and Blaise felt compelled to wonder if maybe someone had hexed her and she was desperately trying to tell him something but couldn't because her face was frozen. But then she did the oddest, most primary-school thing he'd witnessed since grade two. She actually _mimicked _him. And it wasn't a spot-on, 'hey, that sounded exactly like me!' kind of mimic, either. It was a high-pitched, distorted, annoying little brother mimic.

_Ha-ha! _

Blaise snorted, unable to contain himself whilst Granger spun and stuck her ear stubbornly against the door, apparently listening for any sign of the needy fifth year who had chased her into the bathroom. Who would have thought that _Hermione Granger _could stoop so low?! Blaise forced the laughter down and his face composed itself again.

'That's some great wit you've got Granger,' he told her.

'Shut up!' she snarled, her face bright red. 'And go put a goddamn shirt on!'

If a person could go any redder they should have been registered as an animagus, because it was unbelievable how much like a furry beetroot Granger's head looked at that moment. Although… then wouldn't they have to register as a vege-magus or something? Oh well.

'If it bothers you that much,' Blaise complied lightly before going to find his shirt. He pulled it over his head and noticed that Granger still had the side of her face pressed obstinately against the wooden door.

Wonder if she actually heard him out there?… Not that he cared. He had a Potions essay to complete. He shouldered his bag and moved to where she sat.

'Granger,' he said to get her attention off what were probably the sounds of a mouse scampering around outside the bathroom door. 'Move. As much as it appeals to me, I've better things to do than spend the afternoon in the Prefects Bathroom with you.'

A little harsh perhaps? Well, she mustn't have been expecting any better. After all, he _was _a Slytherin.

Granger shot up astoundingly fast and Blaise stumbled back a few paces as her face was suddenly far too close to his. He blinked and then stared at down at her as her face was level with his shoulders. She was guarding the door with her body, her arms flung out either side of her like he was threatening to set it ablaze.

'You can't go!' she cried quite desperately. Sweet Merlin.

'Why not?' he asked, finding it hard to keep the scepticism out of his voice as he did.

Granger began ranting, speaking her words as if Blaise had to have lost a mighty big load of brain cells to not find it as obvious as she did.

'Because if Lachlan sees you come out, he'll most definitely have a peek inside here just to check if I'm here too and then it'll be like I'm the Pope and Lachlan's come for confession!' she cried, her curls bouncing around her pink, delicate looking face. 'He'll say 'I'm sorry' about twenty times verbally, and then hand me a card and a teddy bear and a bouquet of roses that all sing the cursed words over and over in different pitches about thirty-seven times_. And then_ he'll insist on walking me to my dorm!'

She took several deep breaths and then looked at Blaise insistently. 'You can't leave – not yet.'

Ho ho ho! Look at which High and Mighty Gryffindor was asking the Slimey Sltherin for a little helping hand!

Now, to extend that hand or not…?

Gah! This is why that damn hat didn't just bellow out Slytherin straight-off. Blaise inwardly rolled his eyes and nudged the panting girl in front of him to the side. He then pressed his ear to the door, avoiding her stunned stare. Wait… could he see her _smiling _out the corner of his eye?!

Dear god. What had he gotten himself into?

Granger bent awkwardly at the waist to also listen for Holmes. For this, Blaise was glad. It would have been a whole lot more awkward if she positioned her face level to his. Especially since the door was particularly narrow. But after only a few seconds of hopeful listening, she slid all the way back down to the tiles again. Again, Blaise was pretty glad. But this time it was because he'd been having trouble stopping his gaze from drifting over to Granger's – ahem – backside, which had been sticking out in a way that made it increasingly difficult to do so.

What felt like minutes passed, in which the only noise was Granger's soft breathing. Blaise had always found it weird how loud other people seemed to breathe. He could never hear the air rushing through his own lips, unless he took huge, rib-rattling gasps.

Muffled through the heavy wood came Holmes' lost voice as he called out Granger's name. Blaise smirked evilly at how pathetic he sounded. By now Blaise hated Lachlan Holmes. It was because of that damn boy that he was stuck in a bathroom with Hermione Granger! Although, it wasn't as bad as he would have thought it to be.

He waited impatiently until there was a solid silence outside the door and then straightened away from the door. He was just about to give a curt farewell to Granger when she made a noise that greatly resembled a cheep and she toppled backwards onto the floor. She glared up at him and Blaise stared back, confused as to what he did to deserve such a condemning eyeball.

'What?' he asked, feeling (but not sounding) defensive.

'You dripped on me,' she mumbled, half to herself. She rubbed the back of her neck grouchily. 'Why didn't you wipe yourself off properly?' she complained in an amusing, rather Mother-like voice. 'Last time I checked, the just-walked-through-the-Niagara-Falls look was not in. I mean, you come from the rich family of Zabini, right? So it's not like you can't _afford _a good functioning towel…'

Watching her, legs spread out on the floor, pouting and rubbing her neck grumpily like his three year old niece – it was just hilarious for such a high-status girl like Hermione Granger to be in such a position. He laughed.

Her face snapped up and she blinked at him several times in something like shock – but for the life of him, Blaise couldn't figure out why she looked so surprised. Then, Hermione Granger did something that made the very laughter die in his throat. She _smiled. _

She had a pretty nice smile. Nice, white and straight. With pink gums. Blaise wondered what toothpaste she used. But maybe it wasn't the teeth that made it nice? Maybe it was the way her cheeks pushed up in rosy little curves, accenting her small chin. Or the way her lips stretched upwards bashfully, and her eyes peeped up at him from behind thick brown lashes.

…sweet Merlin. What was _wrong _with him?

Blaise shook his head at himself and then grabbed a white fluffy towel off the bench, no doubt left for him by a House Elf. Nice creatures. Easy to please. Blaise had once told one he had appreciated its service after it had done him some errands. He thought it was going to have a coronary, it looked so pleased.

He rubbed the towel in his hair quickly and slung it over his shoulders. It was a good towel. Would have been a pity to leave it on the bench. He cocked an eyebrow at Granger pointedly when he was done.

She nodded approvingly and smiled, thought this one disappeared faster than the other. She rose off the floor and shoved her hands behind her back rather fiercely.

'Bye!' she said rapidly, in a way that made it sound more like a military command.

Blaise decided not to give the movement or the bark much thought and made his way to the door. He was about a metre away from her (she was standing just to the left of the door) when she practically leaped out his way like he carried the Black Plague. Ok, now she was scaring him a little.

He shot her a sideways glance and saw she had a small and innocent smile on her face. The strangest thing happened then. It was probably because he was hungry, but it was like his intestines squeezed together. And his throat went a little dry so he had to swallow. It was really weird, as it had never happened to Blaise before. But since Blaise was, as he liked to think, a pretty laid-back person, he didn't think much of it. Besides, it wasn't like he had much time to ponder before she opened her mouth and started spilling out words as if she were a tap.

'Thanks for not leaving before – it was rather…well, it wasn't something I expected from you – or any other Slytherin for that matter. In fact, I'm surprised I didn't just walk right out and surrender; I was pretty convinced it would have had the same result. I mean, it was _very _uncharacteristic in my opinion and –'

Blaise stared at her, pretty shocked at the sudden outburst, and cocked an eyebrow. Her eyes widened and she looked down to the hand Blaise had on the doorknob. She went so red Blaise wondered if it hurt.

'I won't judge you again,' She concluded abruptly and thrust her hand into the gap between them rather mechanically.

Blaise cocked his head to the side a millimetre as he watched her, wondering what was happening. Why was she going to such lengths to make it clear how confused she was? Although, that probably wasn't what she was trying to make clear. Feeling almost sympathetic, Blaise slid his hand into hers. He shook her hand lightly, not looking away from her large, chocolate brown eyes. He did try to look away, but he couldn't. They were so clear, so intriguing. He could see so much in them. Just as he studied her eyes, she studied his, but he couldn't bring himself to feel self-conscious. She looked so innocent. He could see confusion in her eyes, and slight doubt. But there was something else that Blaise was a little shocked to recognize. She trusted him. Only a bit though, and probably against her own will, but it was still rather unnerving. Especially because a feeling of satisfaction filled him when he saw it.

Blaise's hand dropped from hers when he realized that they'd been clasping hands for a little longer than the average handshake. He tucked his hand in her pocket and curled it into a fist. He dug his fingers into his palm, trying to stifle the hot, tingling feeling that emanated from it.

'Cool,' he said nodding slowly. He smirked, forgetting the foreign feelings that had run through his body. 'So can I go now?'

She blushed again and nodded rapidly.

'Sure.'

He smirked again at how embarrassed she looked and held open the door for her. She looked at him questioningly after an awkward moment and he rolled his eyes at her obliviousness. For the 'brightest witch of her age' she sure was thick.

'Go on,' he said, feeling uncomfortable that he had to explain his actions. It would have been so much easier if she just slipped past him and they continued on their separate ways. Now he had to make out like he was some old-fashioned gentleman. 'Ladies first, right?'

Granger's eyes widened to the size of golf balls and Blaise's expression went dry. Did she honestly think him such a mannerless prat? Or did she just think every boy was like Weasley?

As soon as she saw his expression, her own went indifferent. 'What?' she asked, her voice gaining a lofty tone. Blaise wanted to roll his eyes again and grin smugly at her façade.

'It just fills me with such exuberance to see how much credit you give me,' he explained mordantly, ignoring both temptations as he teased her. 'What – Slytherins aren't allowed to have manners, either now? That's harsh, Granger. Especially for someone who just promised to be less judgmental a few seconds ago.'

Sensing that he wasn't really offended, Granger objected, '_You've _gotta give _me _more credit for trying.' Blaise shrugged before she continued with a hint of apology 'Besides, we can't leave at the same time. If someone saw us – well, I've got enough rumours going around about me and Holmes waiting to be exterminated. You and I emerging out of the Prefects Bathroom together – what with you so wet and me all – well, I suppose _I'm _dry – but the point is, Lavender and Pavarti would have a field day.'

Ahh. Why hadn't _he _thought of that? A shiver ran through him at what rumours could have surfaced if not for Granger's quick thinking. He nodded at her.

'Right. See ya, Granger.'

He made his way to the common room, where he laboriously finished off the Potions essay before retiring to his bed, where under his soft green and silver sheets, he pondered the things he'd discovered about a girl who was proving to be much more than he'd expected.


End file.
